Ambiguity
by OstentatiousQuerida
Summary: Everybody has their secrets.
1. Accident

_-Prologue-_

Sometimes it's the smallest decisions that change your life forever

_**- Keri Russell**_

* * *

Accident

It was growing dark as the end of my unpacking came in sight. However, there was one pesky box that I _still_ couldn't find a home for.

I was stood in the middle of my new room, biting my lip, as I tried to decide where I could hide the offending cardboard box. I glared angrily at the word _**'memories'**_ that was scrawled messily across the side of it. I couldn't quite bring myself to unpack it; I wasn't ready to be faced with the reminders of the life I'd left behind that the box held. I just wanted it out of sight, _and out of mind..._

I had been unpacking all day and I was now desperate to be finished. The boredom was finally getting to me and what I yearned for most of all, was to crawl under my covers and forget today had happened, _not that there was much chance of that._

It was my mother's idea for us to arrive ridiculously early. She was under the impression that the house could be readied in a day if we worked hard enough. Therefore, I was dragged from the hotel where we had spent the night, at the offensive time of five thirty in the morning, in order to reach our new house before noon. Our flight had arrived in Seattle late last night, and my mother had rented a car for us to finish the journey to our new 'home'. Forks, a town that if it was big enough, and it certainly wasn't, would be a contender for the rainiest city in America. _And I just love the rain,_ I muttered sarcastically. We'd found our belongings stacked neatly in the front room downstairs, after having them shipped across the country a few days prior to our arrival, and had been unpacking ever since. It had gotten boring. Fast.

I studied the room again, my impatience growing by the second. There had to be somewhere I could put a reasonably sized box. I ran my hand through my short black hair, tugging on it slightly, a sure sign of my frustration. I had never been the most patient of people. My craving to be finished intensified.

I groaned as my hunt proved fruitless _again_, and sank onto my freshly made bed, glaring at the box angrily. It was the last thing that stood between me and a decent night's sleep. I hated it for that. In the distance, I could hear the faint echoing of thunder, as the sky noticeably darkened. I really hated thunder as well. This increased my hurry to finish my unpacking job. I wasn't a particularly tidy person, but I shunned the thought of going to bed with one tiny job still left to do. I sighed, and once again tried to think of the places I would have put the box, had I been back in the city.

After a few minutes of intense scrutiny, I spotted it. A shelf at the top of my closet. It was high up, but there looked to be enough room to conceal the aforementioned box. I shuddered slightly at my use of 'my' when describing the closet. I wasn't quite ready to call the room 'mine' yet, still too attached to the southern state I _had_ called home. The closet wasn't as big as my one back home, I noticed with dismay; I'd have to invest in a wardrobe.

I picked up my stool from its place by the window, carrying it across the room, and placed it within reaching distance of the open closet door. Balancing the box carefully against my body with one hand, I shakily climbed onto the stool using the closet door for support. Slowly, I lifted the box over my head and began to manoeuvre it into place, sliding it backwards onto the shelf.

To my dismay, something hidden at the very back of the shelf stopped my progress, leaving the box to stick out a couple of inches. I pushed, hoping my attempt would simply dislodge the object and force the box into place.

This, whilst being a good idea in theory, did not seem to want to work in practise.

I shoved harder, the box balancing precariously on the ledge; that something must be pretty solid. The box stayed put, refusing to budge under my futile attempt, almost demanding that I throw my whole weight against it to push it in. I sighed, preparing to push as hard as it was possible to do without unbalancing me. I shifted my weight slightly on the chair, going onto my tiptoes to give me the maximum possible leverage and pushed. Hard.

At that moment, the light in my room instantly shut off, the sound of thunder echoing through the deathly quiet. In my fright, I jumped, forgetting where I was, and that was all it took for everything to go horribly wrong. The chair slid out from under me awkwardly. The box, rebounding against whatever was jammed at the back of the cupboard, shot out towards me, shattering all hope I had of simply turning around and landing safely on two feet.

Then I was falling, hurtling backwards, the box coming with me. Time seemed to slow down with the inevitability of what was coming, what I anticipated to be a painful landing. I didn't know what to do, there wasn't time to think about throwing my arms out, or twisting round to lessen the damage that was sure to occur. I didn't even have time to panic as, twisting my head, I saw the ground loom closer and closer.

I simply closed my eyes and braced myself for impact with the floor.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of Twilight, I'm just borrowing them for my own amusement.

**A/N:** I apologise for my sucky use of commas. I tried.

Its a little slow to start, I know, but give it a chance, I promise it gets better.

Alice is pretty hard to write and I hope I've managed to do her character some justice. I'm still working on her whole backstory. Lets just say there is a reason for everything.

Hope you enjoy it. Opinions and constructive criticism welcomed.

Ostentatious Querida =]


	2. Awakening

__

_-Act One-_

_Today is the first day of the rest of your life_

_**- Charles Dederich**_

* * *

Awakening

I awoke in a cold sweat. Rolling onto my side, ignoring how uncomfortable I felt doing this, I concentrated on slowing my erratic breathing back to a normal rate. I kept my eyes shut, scrunching them tighter, taking more slow, deep breaths before I felt ready to uncurl from the ball I lay in, and open my eyes. Another deep breath and I allowed my eyelids to flutter open slowly. That's when I realised I was on the floor, still in the exact same spot where I'd fallen hours earlier. I scrambled up into a sitting position in shock, surprised that my head wasn't spinning or aching when I did this, as I became acutely aware of the cold seeping through my clothes. I glanced around, inspecting the scene, trying to figure out exactly what had happened.

The offending box was lying across the room, upside down, but looking relatively undamaged a few feet away from me, the stool now on its side from the momentum of my fall. _I_ was in the middle of my floor, having fallen a good few feet backwards, between my bed and my door. _What a _perfect_ start to the day_, I thought sarcastically. I wasn't usually _this _clumsy.

I silently got up of the floor and crept out of my bedroom, across the corridor to the bathroom. The door creaked as I opened it, but other than that, I encountered no problems as I made my way to survey the damage I had inflicted on myself. I was hoping it was minimal. The last thing I wanted was a black eye to help me make my first impression.

Once in front of the bathroom mirror I poked and prodded my scalp gently, looking for signs of tenderness or bruising - anything to indicate just how hard I'd hit myself. I couldn't remember feeling any pain, but then again, I couldn't remember hitting the floor either. A few minutes of careful examination later, I was pleased to find there was no noticeable damage to my head. This surprised me, surely, if I'd hit myself hard enough to knock myself out I should at least have a bruise, not that _I_ was complaining.

The house was still silent as I made my way back to my room, being extra careful, as I was sure at least one of the floorboards creaked. This knowledge would be essential; my mother's job had her working different shifts, and she wasn't the happiest person in the world if she was woken up before she had to be. My mom, or Marie, as everyone else knew her, was transferred to the small community hospital, where she would work as a nurse. She'd been nominated as this hospital was horribly understaffed, and graciously accepted, on account of the generous pay rise. At least that's what she'd told me. I wasn't a suspicious person, but something told me that hadn't been the only reason.

It was sunrise; I glanced toward my window, looking at the rays of light that had broken through the remaining cloud cover left from last night's storm dance through the netting, and gazed at the pinky-orange haze that filled my room from the glow of the sky. There was an unfamiliar green tinge to it, serving as a reminder that I was far from home. At least what used to be my home. I attempted to push that thought to the back of my mind, silently trying to keep the promise I'd made to myself about making the best of a bad situation. After a few minutes of marvelling at the light, I clambered into bed, trying to warm myself up, checking the time on my alarm clock. The green glow indicated it was five–thirty, far _far _too early to be awake. I shifted uncomfortably for a few minutes before sighing. I was restless; there would be no chance of trying to steal a few precious minutes more sleep, for fear of repeating the dream that had jolted me from unconsciousness.

It hadn't been a particularly scary dream in the usual sense. There were no axe–wielding psychopaths intent on making me their next victim and I wasn't plummeting from a cliff to my doom – but something about it, something I couldn't quite put my finger on had really freaked me out.

It was too..._ real_.

I sat bolt upright at this new revelation, quickly pulling the covers around me when I felt the temperature change. I was right! It had been too real, too clear in contrast with my normal hazy nightmares. Everything I'd seen had been so precise, as if I had been living it, or, I had already lived it, developing some kind of photographic memory to replay it over to myself whilst I slept. However, nothing I had seen had happened. That I was positive of. Regardless of repeatedly reminding myself of this fact, the dream still plagued my mind. I tried to ignore it as I absentmindedly pulled myself back out of bed and stood, leaning against the far wall surveying my new room.

The first thing I noticed was the colour, a bland beige colour that I was already growing to despise. My room looked so pale, with only a few of my trinkets to break up the monotony, and I resolved to paint it the first opportunity I got. At the very least, I would have to get a brightly coloured rug. I sighed, something I seemed to be doing a lot. This was where I'd be spending the majority of time for the next two years so I had to get used to it. I'd protested about moving, pretty much ever since my mother had suggested it. She had asked for my 'opinion' on her transfer, but I knew regardless of what I said she had already made her decision. I had simply grimaced, but told her to do whatever she thought was right. Apparently_ her _definition of right, was dragging me halfway across the country, to a tiny little town in the middle of nowhere, to spend the rest of my high school years. I tried not to hold it against her; she always made the right move when it came to my life, so I just had to accept that she knew what she was doing.

I bent down, picking up the box from last night and pushed it against the wall. It was lighter than I remembered it, noticeably, but I still had to exert a considerably amount of force to pick it up and push it against the wall. _Stupid box,_ I muttered, kicking it when it was in place to release some of my frustration. I gave my room the once over, checking to see if anything else was out of place, and when I was satisfied it was orderly, I practically bounded across my room and flopped backwards onto my waiting bed. It was so much more comfortable than the floor, warmer too, but even its comforting softness wouldn't allow me to fully relax. The dream was still running through my head, and as much as I tried not to think of it, I would only find myself thinking of it again. I groaned, resigning myself to replaying it again, trying to put my mind at rest.

It hadn't happened.

Firstly, I hadn't tripped over anything. _Yet_, I mentally added, citing my inability to stay still for very long as the reason for my rare bouts of clumsiness. In my 'dream' I had stumbled over last of the porch steps. I knew this hadn't happened, but yet the clarity of the dream still had me worried. I was too wound up.

More evidence to this point was that I'd never actually been outside my new house since I'd gotten here. I didn't even know if there was a supermarket in this god forsaken town. That was when my dream had gotten weird, focusing in on a 'one day only' sale of hideous rainbow striped scarves, possibly the most random thing I could have dreamed about. I blamed falling off a chair for that one.

The scene shifted again and I found myself in my hallway. The silver picture frame, the one my mother had put pride of place on the small table at the bottom of the stairs, lying on the floor, broken. I didn't need to concentrate hard to figure out exactly which picture it was. It was of the three of us, my dad, her and me on vacation at the beach. I was visibly younger, my hair still long then; it had been taken the summer before he died. Straining my memory, I could remember it had been extremely hot that day, the only day it hadn't rained since we'd been there. My parents had spent the week annoyed; they'd chosen the only time it had rained for five days straight in remembered history to visit, but as luck would have it our last day was spent in brilliant sunshine. That picture frame wasn't broken, I knew that above all. But it had seemed so real in my dream. It wasn't like the vague haze I normally got, where everything looked real, but in the back of your mind you knew it wasn't. _This _was so shockingly lifelike I was actually surprised to wake up on my floor.

That scene ended, as I walked towards the frame, turning it over to see the glass inside it had smashed. I was in my garden, a blurred figure stood by the solitary tree, his face hidden from the moonlight. The image settled there for a moment, zooming in closer until it was almost near enough to make out the face, then it was gone.

The dream became disjointed, now, images now running through my head, like uploading a database of pictures into my brain. There was action, lots of images flashing before my eyes, a hospital, a black car and a stage being just a few of the many. I distinctly remember gasping at the sheer amount of things I was seeing, an overload of things I'd never seen before. I had woken up then.

It seemed almost silly now to be freaked out about it. I resolved to stop thinking about it, and get on with my day. I retreated back to the bathroom, silently, turning on the shower and shedding my clothes. I cranked the nozzle up to hot and audibly sighed as the water soothed my shoulder. I didn't realise until now that it had begun to ache. I twisted slightly, moving my head so I could examine my shoulder better. There was definitely a bruise coming. I groaned. Just when I thought I had escaped my ordeal without any evidence. My mother would no doubt wonder how I'd earned this one, and I wasn't exactly willing to tell her that I'd fallen off a chair and knocked myself unconscious. She would worry, understandably, and I really didn't need her to be concerned with me as she started her new job.

I tried to clear my mind and focus on cleaning myself. My recently cut hair didn't take much washing, I shampooed and conditioned it quickly, my desire not to think meaning my concentration on even the most mundane tasks increased tenfold.

After a few more minutes relaxation and washing I remembered that she would need the shower after me. Courteously, I jumped out, shutting off the water before it became too cold and grabbed my towel. I stared at the bruise as I dried myself off, my brow wrinkling in dismay as I saw how angry it already looked. It was huge, a combination of red and purple, and unsightly - running across the joint of my shoulder, and as I twisted my body in the mirror, some way down my back. I moved my shoulder slightly, checking its sphere of movement, surprised to find that apart from a slightly twinge here and there it was in perfect working order. The mark suggested otherwise, giving me concrete evidence of just how hard I'd fallen. It could have been due to the awkward angle I fell at, but it looked like it ought to be painful.

I snuck back to my bedroom for the second time, and contented myself with picking out what I was going to wear that day. It was still the weekend and I wanted to get an idea of just what there was to do here. A library would be nice, a bookstore would be even better. I wasn't asking for much, knowing that a clothing shop would be wishful thinking. I needed a job too, if I ever wanted to get the car I'd been saving towards since I turned sixteen. The fund itself was pitiful, but since my mom was always using her car, a mode of transportation was essential, if I wanted to go anywhere out of walking distance. I had suggested a motorbike, but that idea had quickly been re-thought. My mother hated motorbikes, which I suppose was understandable, she was a nurse. She had seen one too many motorbike accident to ever allow me to even think about going near one without a lecture on safety.

As I opened my wardrobe silently, I heard a door click from across the hall. Footsteps approached in the direction of my room, but I breathed a sigh of relief as I heard another door open. My mom was up, preparing for her first day's work at the hospital. I stayed still, my hand stopping in mid air as it had come out to inspect the clothes in my wardrobe. I didn't want to explain to her why I was up at half past five in the morning. A few moments later, I heard the whoosh of the shower. Turning and I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and went back to choosing my outfit.

I didn't really know too much about the place I was going to be calling home from now on, and I hoped that my wardrobe would still be temperature appropriate. I looked out of my window, checking the weather – everything was so darn green here - but through the trees it seemed like it would be a fine day. I silently prayed it wouldn't rain.

I pulled out the first pair of jeans my hands found, light blue and classic looking, and threw them behind me onto my bed. I bit my lip as my eyes ran along the pile of neatly folded sweaters and vests that were placed on shelves that ran down one side of my closet. It's not like I had many clothes to choose from. I'd had an extremely good clear out before I left, sacrificing most of my slightly too small or horrendously out of fashion clothes. Most of my clothes were too thin for the weather of Forks.

_Fork_s, I whispered, saying the name of my new home like a curse. According to the internet, it rained incessantly here, and the closest I would be getting to fashion would be a raincoat and boots. It would have to be completely isolated as well, my mind spinning off into a mini rant. The closest 'decent' shopping district would probably be in Seattle, miles away. I doubted there would be any public transport either. I was effectively trapped, surrounded in a sea of green, slowly drowning in nature. _Positive thinking Alice_, I reminded myself once again as I felt myself get too involved in my rant. I was here now and there was nothing I could do about it.

I turned back to my outfit. A stripped, long sleeved jumper was what my eyes rested on. I picked up a plain white vest from the shelf above it and threw it backwards onto my bed, the sweater following it in a white and grey blur. I heard the shower shutting off and returned to my motionless state, waiting till I heard the door of the bathroom open. After a few minutes, the sound of hurried footsteps was heard running down the stairs, and the distinct rattle of keys being picked up out of the bowl. I silently wished my mother luck as the front door clicked open, not that she needed it. She was exceptionally good at what she did.

I turned back to look at the heap of clothes on my dishevelled bed. The clock read six, still too early for anything to be open. My desire to seem normal was diminished by my desire to be out of the house. I dressed hurriedly, running a brush through my almost dry hair and grabbing the closest pair of trainers. I gave my appearance the quick once over in the mirror on the back of my wardrobe door. I looked acceptable, and my unsightly bruise was suitable hidden from the public eye. My expression, a grimace, was not so satisfactory, and I tried to form an expression that didn't look so forced. I settled for blank and apathetic.

I exited the room, stopping on the landing to lace up my shoes. I wasn't exactly sure what I planned on doing once I actually got out of the house. I hadn't quite thought that far ahead. _Maybe a short run?_ I laughed quietly to myself at the first thought that popped into my mind. I, Alice Brandon, did not run. My suggestion surprised me, this coming from the girl who begged her mother to tell the school she had twisted her ankle to get out of cross-country running. I wondered how strange it would look if an unknown girl was seen wandering around the town at such an ungodly hour. I didn't give myself much time to think about this. Strange would have to do them, as I really didn't have any other options. Feeling slightly naked, I walked back into my room and picked up my iPod that sat, waiting, in the middle of my bedside desk. Alone with my thoughts was not what I wanted to be.

I plugged in my headphones, placed them expertly in my ear and put my iPod in the back pocket of my jeans. I was in a hurry to be out of the place. Turning up the volume, I put on my favourite 'dance' track and started a complicated routine I'd devised after years of listening to it. I twisted and then danced down the stairs, waving my arms in a complicated motion, which to anyone else probably looked like I was on fire.

Unfortunately, my _impeccable_ balance failed me on what I thought was the bottom step. I had completely forgotten I was in a new house, with a different number of stairs so as I expected to hit the last step, I didn't, and ended up slipping, banging my knee on the banister. _That is going to bruise_, I thought as I felt the impact, my knee throbbing instantly. Thirteen steps instead of ten, I'd have to remember that.

My body carried on moving and I whirled around, the fact that my foot hadn't touched the floor suddenly becoming apparent to me. My hands flew out as I twisted, trying to save my damaged shoulder from an impact with the floor. At that moment, my iPod, which had been securely nestled in my jean pocket, flew out, still attached to my headphones causing them to be ripped from my ears. I hit the ground, landing on my right knee, hard, the angle causing me to turn to face back up the stairs. The world seemed to slow down in that instant as I watched my IPod make contact with the back of my mother's antique silver picture frame, causing it to fall off the table. I closed my eyes in shock, as I realised what was happening. The house seemed deathly quiet for a moment.

Then the sound of metal falling and shattering glass filled my ears.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Twilight. Wish I did though...

**A/N:** An update, and quite a long one at that. I hope its not too boring.

I'll try to update atleast once a week, and will give you advanced warning as to when my exams are, seeing as I'll have to revise for them and everything. (Like the fact I have a chemistry exam in 3 weeks **:( :(** )

I'm pretty excited about this actually, this is the first time I've had a decent story idea. I don't think this particular plot has been done before - but then again, I could be wrong.

I apologise for any OC-ness, I'm still getting used to writing Alice. (I also repeat my earlier apology about my use of commas).

Another thing to note is that I'm english - so you're getting the english spelling of the words here (color = colour, favorite = favourite), we sure do like our 'u's.

What do you all think? Any good?

Ostentatious Querida =]


	3. Coincidence

_-Scene II-_

This isn't coincidence, there's no such thing.

**_- Brandon Boyd_**

* * *

Coincidence

After a moments silence, I finally managed to open my eyes. They narrowed in on just what I did not want to see, and I instantly began to question my sanity. I looked, dumbstruck, at the scene before me. Surely I couldn't be seeing this right. I shook my head and looked again. My mother's silver picture frame still lay, face down, on the hardwood flooring of the hallway.

I heard a gasp and a sharp intake of breath, the sound filling the room; it took me a second to realise that it was mine. More breaths followed until I finally managed to gain some control, making a conscious effort to slow my breathing down for the second time today. I concentrated on taking slow, steady breaths as the strongest sense of déjà vu hit me like a battering ram. It was _exactly_ like my dream. _Identical._ Down to the last minute details; the slight wrinkle of the rug near where the picture had landed, and the angle my iPod lay in the mess of shattered glass.

_Stop it Alice,_ I muttered angrily, as I fought to get a grip on myself. I pushed my fringe out of my eyes with my trembling right hand, grabbing a fist full of hair at the back of my head. It couldn't possibly be the same scene I had seen in my dream. It wasn't possible. I tried to reason with myself, I was making far too big a deal out of this. Things were broken all the time, accidents happened. I had smashed things before and didn't react like this. _You haven't, however, _seen_ the thing broken before it happened_, the taunting little voice in the back of my head reminded me. I told it to shut up.

Timidly, I reached forward to turn the picture frame over, hoping that I wasn't going to see what, deep down, I knew I would. I guess some part of me wanted conformation. My hand started to shake as I got closer to the frame. _What was wrong with me?_ I heard myself gasp again as I tilted the frame up off the ground, revealing the shattered framing glass. It had shattered in the exact places that I'd seen in my dream, a few shards dropped to the floor, landing with startling accuracy. I dredged up the picture from my memory and could almost see the two visions, my dream version and the present version, overlapping. In that moment, my dream and my reality had blurred into one. I dropped the frame in shock, watching intently as it wobbled a few times before stopping still on the floor once more. I knelt, staring at in the middle of the hallway, a thousand emotions shooting through my body. Confusion, doubt, shock, fear...

I felt dizzy, unable to breathe. I had to put both hands, now clenched into fists, the nails digging into my palms, on the floor to steady myself. _Why did I stop biting my nails?_ I asked myself, the pain distracting me from my current 'situation' and giving me something to focus on, instead of keeling over. I forced myself to breathe, taking slow jagged breaths in an attempt to regain enough control to stand. I stared at the frame, frozen in a strange mixture of terror and disbelief.

_You're paranoid,_ I tried to tell myself. It seemed like a better stance than refusing to believe it was real, as I had been doing a few moments ago. There had to be a rational explanation for this. _Overactive imagination?_ I suggested to myself. I certainly had one of those - but that didn't explain why the frame was now broken in the hallway. Perhaps it was some kind of subconscious decision to this, like the power of suggestion. My mind immediately latched onto this theory. It was plausible. Clearly, the realistic quality of my dream had caused me to make it into reality. That had to be it. People just didn't dream the future.

Slowly, I straightened up, never taking my eyes off the mess on the floor. The house was silent again, except for the sound of my heavy breathing and the tick of the hall clock. I found myself breathing in time with the pendulum as it indicated seconds passing. The sound echoed throughout the house.

I didn't know what to think. The most part of me wanted to believe myself, that it was all just a horrible coincidence, but a small nagging voice at the back of my head thought otherwise. I tried to ignore it, but it did so enjoy taunting me. I wasn't crazy. I ignored the fact that I had been talking to myself minutes earlier, not wanting to have any more evidence for being insane. I wanted to belive myself - but something in my mind stopped me from fully accepting the theory. I felt a little sick.

The house began to feel claustrophobic. The panic I was failing to suppress rose in my throat again, my breathing bordering on hyperventilation once more. Without a second thought, I turned on my heels with almost military precision, a full 180 degrees, and left the house, not even stopping to lock the front door on the way out. I doubted anyone would try to burgle the house anyway. I bolted to the sidewalk, stumbling on the last porch step. I refused to allow myself to think of the significance of this.

I felt numb as I walked aimlessly along the street, keeping my mind focused on the task as though I were diffusing a bomb. I tried to block out everything that had happened earlier and concentrated on just walking. In the light of day my panic back at the house seemed silly, but I still couldn't stop the feeling of terror from running through me at random intervals. _Perhaps I was going into shock?_ My eyes were glued to the pavement, flitting up every now and again in an attempt to memorise my surroundings, so I had at least a glimmer of hope of finding my way back home again. I tried not to look like a tourist, but I couldn't help but feel out of place here and slightly on edge. I shook my head slightly, and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

The sun was noticeably higher in the sky as I turned onto probably the only shopping area in town. It barely broke through the cloud cover and the sky remained gray overhead. It was depressing. I was used to the sunlight and brightness, not the current gloom that surrounded me. The air was cool and crisp, turning my hands red as they numbed. I shoved them into my pockets, breathing out a little heavier to see the vapour from my breath in the air. I huddled into myself slightly, trying to contain my body heat. My pace quickened as I tried to warm up, trying to look inconspicuous as I still ambled along, going nowhere in particular. I passed a few people on the street, but nobody paid much attention to me. I was satisfied at my ability to blend in.

I stopped outside the supermarket, eyeing it with an almost morbid curiosity. I couldn't believe I actually _wanted_ to look inside. I tried to pass it off as a general interest in my surroundings, but I couldn't fool myself. I knew that I only wanted to go in to see if my dream was right. I hoped I was wrong, the logical part of me was certain I would be, but once again, the nagging part of me suggested if I went inside, I'd be severely disappointed. My legs were moving before I made a decision to do so, and I was walking towards the automatic doors, pausing momentarily as I waited for them to slide open. As I stepped through them, the warmth from the heaters, obviously positioned above the entrance, hit me. I was very grateful for the heat and tentatively removed my hands from my pockets, rubbing them together, hoping that the friction created would rid me of the last traces of numbness, and the tingling feeling the numbness brought with it.

_So this is Thriftway_, I thought, as I studied the shop to get my bearings. It was the only supermarket in town, so I'd probably become a regular here. I crossed my fingers that they stocked pop tarts. In front of me were rows of stocked shelves and I felt almost silly, I had absolutely no idea what I was planning to do now. I could always ask, but how creepy would that sound if some unknown person came up to you and asked if you stocked stripy woolly hats. Not that I _cared_ what people thought of me, I quickly corrected, I just tended to avoid awkward situations. It wasn't a complete dislike of attention; I just happened to be a firm believer that not all attention was good attention. I hadn't been the most outgoing person at my last school, and that quality seemed to have came with me to the Olympic Peninsula.

I felt as though everyone's eyes were on me as I walked slowly between the rows of shelves, looking for, but hoping I wouldn't find, the scene from my dream. _I hope your happy,_ I thought, mentally chastising whatever warped part of my mind caused me to enter the shop. I was being silly again, just encouraging my mind to play tricks on me. It was like I actually _wanted_ to prove myself crazy. I decided to put the blame on stress; the stress of moving house mid-term and the stress of having to be the new girl at school, and just knowing something was going to go wrong. I could tell, every time I so much as thought about school, I felt sick in my stomach as it twisted and tightened, causing me to almost wince uncomfortably. I really didn't want to go – but seeing as I wanted to a high paid career when I was older, I wasn't quite sure what career, ditching school wasn't an option. It never was an option anyway; my mother would never let me.

In theory, I could blame her for this. If I hadn't been moved to Forks, I wouldn't have been unpacking, so I couldn't have fallen of a stool, so I never would have knocked myself unconscious, so I wouldn't have ended up here, in a supermarket, looking for a display rack of ugly hats. I thought back to a few days ago, when I was still begging her to let me stay in Biloxi, Mississippi. I'd _knew _that moving me across the country was a terrible idea, that she should just let me stay where I was until I finished high school. That's what I wanted to tell her anyway. I didn't though, I never had the heart to argue with my mother.

I turned onto the final isle at the end of the store, smug that the logical part of my brain had won. I continued to be smug until my eyes fixed on a display that screamed hideous. I stopped. My muscles locked into place and I found myself unable to move. My mind was going haywire, desperately searching for an explanation for the site that was before my eyes. **'ONE DAY SALE'** was written in big letters across a basket that contained hats. Rainbow striped hats. The exact same rainbow striped hats I had seen in my dream last night. _So how to you plan to explain this_, I asked myself. Power of suggestion hardly caused this - I'd never even been to this side of town before. _Coincidence,_ I repeated to myself. Just a freaky coincidence and nothing more.

I decided to pick up some milk, we probably didn't have any in the house, and stood in the queue at the checkout, waiting to pay. I wondered what I would be doing if I was back home. I would probably still be asleep, due to the two hour time difference, but if I was up I definitely wouldn't be freaking out in the middle of a supermarket. I would, at the very least, be warmer. I tugged my sweater down further, wrapping my arms around my waist. It wasn't as if the queue was long, I was just an impatient person. I fought not to tap my foot as I stood still.

All of a sudden, my head began to hurt. It felt like my brain was pounding as I raised my free hand to my forehead. I felt myself burning up, as I noticed the temperature difference between my hand and my head. Something was wrong. My palms started sweating as the store in front of me faded from my eyes. Something was_ really_ wrong. Panic rushed through my veins, into every corner of my body. I thought I was fainting, but, instead of my sight turning black, my vision seemed to blur into something else. Something I knew I shouldn't be seeing.

I was outside, on the sidewalk, looking at the junction that I knew was outside the store. I saw a few people near the junction, but nothing of consequence. I didn't feel cold though, not like I was actually outside. I was about to start wondering what was happening to me, when I heard a screeching noise. It was muffled, but I could still make it out clearly. I tried to turn my head in the direction it was coming from, but my vision stayed trained on the crosswalk. I watched as a red car came into view. It swerved, heading for the side of a black van that had taken a wrong turn. I was unable to do anything, and although I wanted to move, or at least turn my head, I couldn't. I was frozen in my place. I could faintly hear the car honking as it got closer. I gasped as the car collided with the van. The sound of glass shattering filled my ears and I still couldn't move. I heard people shouting as smoke began to rise from the bonnet of the car. I tried to look closer, but my vision began to fade. It blurred and faded to black as quickly as it started.

"Hello?" I blinked furiously as my vision returned to normal. My vision refocused and I found myself looking at the woman sitting at the checkout in front of me. I shook my head, confused. I was still in Thriftway?

"Hello dear, are you alright?" The woman asked again. She had a kind expression on her face, and I looked around nervously, wondering how long I'd been standing there. Whatever had happened to me hadn't taken longer than a few seconds. The panic I was feeling before the vision started intensified.

"Fine." I managed, trying not to let any emotion seep into my voice. I stiffly placed the milk on the counter.

"You sure? You like you've just seen a ghost!" She joked. I forced a laugh. I wasn't in the mood to be sociable. I caught a look at my reflection in the window behind her and didn't like what I saw. I looked like a frightened rabbit, caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. I was visibly shaken. This wasn't good at all.

I paid for the milk, desperate to get out of the shop and she moved to pass me the bag she had placed the milk into.

"You new here?" She didn't relinquish her grip on the bag, and I attempted to fix my face into a blank mask. I didn't look into the window to see how successful I was at this.

"Yes," I gave another monosyllabic reply. She smiled at me kindly, but I couldn't quite manage to return one. I pulled at the bag before she could ask another question, and I walked out of the store on autopilot. My mind was swimming, a rational explanation for this one seemed pretty impossible. I welcomed the cool air as I stepped outside, my body temperature seeming to have risen. I took a deep breath. It had to be a daydream, right? A really clear, vivid, daydream.

I heard a loud screeching and I felt my breathing rate increase. I turned just in time to see a bright red car collide, sideways on, with a black van. I jumped as the sound of shattering glass filled my ears. Smoke immediately began to rise from the cars bonnet as I heard shouting from the other people on the street. I watched, frozen, as the side door of the car began to open and people rushed to assist the driver.

I had just seen that happen.

All rational explanations went out of the window.

I was still for a few moments longer, before doing the only thing I could think of.

I ran.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Nope, I still don't own Twilight. That's S. Meyer.

**A/N:** This chapter is a bit blah, but I couldn't exactly the right way to word it. I'll probably come back and edit this later, once I know the characters more.

We're still in the introduction phase of the story. I know, I know, this setting the scene stuff is taking a long time, but I'm really trying to understand what I want Alice's character to be in this story - without her being too OOC. Everything seems to be happening a bit fast, but in my first version of this chapter, the car crash didn't happen and she seemed to be freaking out over nothing. So I decided to make her life a little more confusing. because I'm evil like that.

Don't worry, I have the next couple of chapters mostly written so I'll post them as soon as possible to make up for this pretty suckish chapter. (though after about a dozen edits I like it a bit more now).

Again, I apologise for my use of commas. I really should get a Beta.

Review please?

Ostentatious Querida =]


	4. Trainwreck

_-Interlude-_

Life is not what it's supposed to be. It's what it is. The way you cope with it is what makes the difference.

_**- Virginia Satir**_

* * *

Trainwreck

_Shock_

I raced down the streets of Forks, earning myself a few looks of curiosity from other townsfolk. I hoped none of them had gotten a good look at my face; I didn't want to be an object of gossip, before I started school - where I would, no doubt, be _the_ object of gossip. I couldn't quite bring myself to care though, as I concentrated on putting as much distance between me and the accident, as if it would make a difference to what I'd just seen. I wasn't thinking straight at all. A few stray tears rolled down my cheeks, others pooling in my eyes and blurring my vision. I didn't stop though, I couldn't bring myself to slow down. I just had to get away.

I didn't know where I was going, but I eventually found myself back home, standing on my porch. I ran inside, locking the door behind me. I leant heavily against the wall in the hallway, trying to catch my breath, my shoulders heaving as my lungs attempted to fill themselves with as much oxygen as possible. The tears were flowing freely now, and I wiped my eyes furiously with my sleeve to remove the evidence. I couldn't figure out why I was crying; I felt nothing. I was quintessentially numb, feeling no emotions run through my body. Something was blocking them, my autopilot setting from the store still apparently on. It took a few minutes for me to gain some sort of a grip on myself again.

The house was eerily silent, except for my breathing, and when I quietened enough to listen, there was still nothing. No bird song, no wind, not even the noise of a passing car. Normally I would have basked in the silence, but now, the noiseless quality of Forks was making me uneasy. I didn't like it. It didn't seem _right_, not wasn't like it was supposed to be. Nothing was how it was supposed to be anymore. I felt as if I was viewing the world in a whole new light, everything was strange and different. Something inside of me had changed, and I couldn't see it being changed back.

_I saw the future,_ I whispered, struggling just to form the sentence. It seemed like I was admitting to some kind of heinous crime. My body instantly rejected the statement, and I could feel the nausea rising from the pit of my stomach. I felt sick, like when you realise you have spent all night studying for the wrong exam. I didn't know how to react, given what had just happened.

How were you supposed to react anyway, when something you had _'seen'_ came true in front of your eyes?

I walked mechanically into the kitchen and put the milk into the fridge, welcoming the noise of the door opening. I thought about turning the television on, just for some background sound, but decided it would be a waste of electricity if I wasn't going to watch it. I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing, still too scared to act normally. My brain began focusing on one task at a time, something like a young child's mind, giving me just enough logic to attempt to function. It wasn't normal, but nothing was normal anymore.

_I wasn't normal._

My throat felt abnormally dry, so I went to grab a glass from the kitchen cupboard. My head began to ache, first a dull pain, but becoming more pronounced every passing minute. It felt like a hangover, or what I imagined a hangover to feel like. I reached out to pick up the nearest glass, noticing for the first time that my hand was shaking. I stared at it, almost transfixed, willing it to steady. It didn't, and it took a little more effort to get the glass and fill it at the sink. I swallowed a mouthful of water, before placing the cup on the counter, and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

I couldn't really concentrate on anything and began pacing the kitchen, a weird habit that had stayed with me from childhood. When I was trying not to think about something, I would attempt to keep my mind busy by means of distraction. Distraction wasn't going to help me now, and I slowed, eventually coming to a stop by the breakfast counter. I took a deep breath. I shivered a little, not sure if it was from the cold or something else. I was fighting to think of something, anything to stop me replaying the earlier events in my head. My mind was trying to protect itself, steering clear from the forbidden subject, but all I seemed to want to do was think about it.

I leaned on the counter, shocked to find I was burning up. I hadn't noticed until my sweating palms made contact with the icy cool of the counter. My headache intensified, causing my vision to blur. I had to sit down on the stool beside me, putting my face onto the cool countertop as I did so. It was cold, causing another shiver to run through my body, but it soothed my aching head. It began to ease my dizziness too, and slowly the room came back into focus.

My brain tried to make sense of everything that had happened, but when I tried to think back, I kept coming up with a blank. It was like my mind had built a wall up to block it out. I knew what had happened, but the details escaped me, the wall making it impossible to think straight. My headache came back with a vengeance due to all the overwork I was putting my brain through.

_I..._ I couldn't quite form the sentence, all coherent thought escaping me.

I swung my legs to the side, using my arms to pull myself out of the chair. I felt a little faint, but I didn't feel like sitting down any longer. I was about to continue pacing the kitchen when something glittered in the corner of my eye. I turned my head, looking into the hallway, and caught sight of the picture frame at the bottom of the stairs. I lost all of my feigned composure, the terror and panic that had filled me when I witnessed the accident reclaiming control of my body. I bolted up the stairs, turning my head to avoid looking the fallen frame, and I focused on getting to my room without having a mental breakdown.

_Denial_

Somehow, I managed to kick of my shoes and hurl myself onto my bed successfully.

_I had..._ I couldn't even begin to think about what had happened to me. It wasn't possible. People didn't see the future. Normal, everyday, boring people like Alice Brandon _didn't_ see the future. I possessed nothing about me that made me special. I wasn't one of those people you knew were made for bigger and better things. I wasn't even destined to be anything. I was a regular girl, or at least I was until I saw the future before it happened.

I shook my head. I _hadn't_ seen the future. Things like that didn't happen outside of movies or science fiction novels. It just wasn't a plausible excuse. There_ had_ to be some other explanation.

_It couldn't have been real._

The logical part of my brain was up in arms, completely and utterly confused, reduced to repeating _'it's not real, it's not real,'_ over and over, with reduced conviction each time. I tried in vain to pull myself round, trying to convince myself that firstly, I wasn't going crazy, and secondly, this was all just one big freaky coincidence, or a dream. _It could be a dream,_ I reasoned, _one of those continuation ones where you think you've woken up, but in fact you haven't._ That hardly explained seeing the car crash before it actually happened. I sure as heck didn't dream that one. I tried to accept it, but, deep down, I knew it wasn't true. I looked for alternative theories.

_You just imagined it._

It was a long shot, but I was prepared to go with it. I was probably still dreaming now. I was probably still unconscious, on the floor, and I was living a messed up version of the 'Wizard of Oz', minus the tornado. But how did I feel the cold, or feel my muscles protest as I sprinted home? I had to admit even _my_ active imagination wasn't that... _active._

_It couldn't have happened._

A realistic rebuttal. I liked it.

_It didn't happen._

Flat-out rebuttal. Even better.

_You're over-thinking things._

That was probably true. I had enough trouble picking out my outfits in the morning, reasoning for each item of clothing._ Not that this exactly compared..._

The thoughts repeated in my head, over and over again, until they seemed more believable. Maybe, if I kept repeating them, I'd be able to believe I was telling myself the truth - that everything that I thought had happened, hadn't.

***

I sat down to dinner with my mother that night in silence. She brought pizza, not willing to cook after a long day at the hospital. She had gone in early - extra early - so as to acquaint herself with the running of the hospital, and then stayed extra late so she could organise her desk properly. Order was my mother's friend, a quality that I doubted I had inherited. A tense silence hung in the air as we ate. Initially we had exchanged a few words, the standard _'how was your day?'_ along with _'did you do much?'_. I offered little more than a fine and a no, which quickly ended the conversation. Unfortunately, she saw the milk in the fridge, so I had to briefly mention my trip to Thriftway.

"Oh, there was a crash near there this morning." My mother said offhandedly, trying to break the silence. "A car ploughed right into the side of a van at the junction."

_Try denying that._

I lost my appetite. I forced my face to stay emotionless, but inside I could feel like I was breaking apart. The enormity of everything that happened hit me again. _It hadn't happened,_ I tried to tell myself weakly.

"Really?" I asked, feigning noninterest. "Was anybody hurt?"

I couldn't stop myself from asking. I wanted to change the subject, but the words had come from my mouth before I had thought to stop them. I braced myself for the worst.

"Both of the drivers were taken in, but it was mainly cuts and bruises. They're both alright now."

"Hmm..." was all the reply I could manage. I put my knife and fork down on my plate and went to the sink to begin to wash up.

I could feel the nausea rising in my throat again, as the rope that was my denial began to fray. I was slipping off the cliff, back into the waters of confusion that I had been pulled out of. I clung tighter to it. _It couldn't have happened,_ the thought puny in comparison to the other voices in my head. Voices that were telling me that denial wasn't healthy...

"Yeah, accidents like that don't happen every day. Apparently accidents are really rare around these parts."

The rope frayed a little more, and I felt myself getting closer to confusion again. I was hanging on by a thread, clinging to my previous evaluation of the situation for dear life. _It wasn't possible._

"About the picture frame...."

I looked into the hallway, noticing the picture frame was gone, so I knew she had to have seen it and cleaned it up. I should have noticed it earlier, but now the comforting numbness of denial was beginning to leave me, everything seemed slightly clearer. I cursed myself inwardly for being so stupid as to leave the evidence in full view of the door. My mother was silent behind me, and I braced myself for what I knew was coming.

"Well," she asked, her voice infinitesimally harder. "Explain that please."

The rope snapped at those words, the thought of explanations becoming too much for my overworked brain, and I tumbled back into uncertainty.

_Anger_

"It fell," I managed, knowing that it wouldn't be a satisfactory explanation. I couldn't quite turn around to face her, as I knew she wanted me to, as I wasn't sure of exactly what my face would betray.

"Oh,"

"I'm sorry," I added, but my voice lacked the proper emotion to make it seem convincing.

I quickly excused myself, my mother looking at me oddly as I claimed I was tired, after rearranging my room. She didn't say anything though, but I was certain she was suspicious. I took the stairs a little too fast to seem as tired as I claimed I was, racing back to the sanctuary that was my bedroom.

_Why was this happening to me!_ I thought angrily, resisting the urge to scream. I ripped my jumper over my head, throwing it against the wall.

I slammed my palms down on the bed, grabbing a fistful of my duvet in each hand. I just wanted to lash out, hit something, anything. My body was shaking as I leant over my bed, as I steadily got more and more frustrated, as the facts became clear; I didn't know what was happening to me, and it sure as heck wasn't normal. I kicked the bed frame, looking for some sort of release from the anger, but it didn't come.

I felt unhinged, and my anger grew as I began to question my sanity. Maybe this was what it felt like to go insane.

I wanted to scream, to shout, to let the whole darn town know exactly what I was feeling. It was so unlike me, and for a moment the realisation scared me. I wasn't a violent person. I didn't lash out. My mind begged to differ, thinking I had fair reason to be annoyed. I had already been dragged halfway across the country to a sunlight-forsaken town in the middle of nowhere and now, on top of everything else, I was some kind of future seeing freak! Didn't karma hate me enough? What could I possibly have done to warrant this kind of punishment?

_Its not fair!_ I summarised under my breath, injecting as much venom as I could into a whisper.

I allowed myself to flop onto my bed in defeat. I ran my hands over my face, resting my finger tips on my temples. I sat still for a moment before the urge to hit something became too strong again. I lashed out at the first thing I came across, my pillow becoming my punch bag.

_Despair_

The tears came later. Anger gave way to despair somewhere around eight, and my body was wracked with sobs. I wasn't sure when my emotions changed, but sometime whilst I was hitting my pillow my punches became weaker, until I gave up completely, my strength leaving me, and I collapsed on my pillow. My shoulders shook as everything I had tried to suppress came tumbling out in the form of tears. I pushed my head further into my pillow, curling up into a ball, in an attempt to conceal the noise. I didn't want my mother to hear me. I couldn't face trying to explain anything.

I felt my whole body begin to shiver, and grabbing the blanket from the foot of my bed, I wrapped it around myself tightly, continuing to stare at the bare wall in front of me. For the first time in my life I felt really alone.

I must have cried myself to sleep, because when morning came, I couldn't remember stopping. My cheeks were sore and tear stained, my hair felt like a mess, and I was hugging onto my pillow for dear life. I lay quietly, hoping that if my mother was awake, she wouldn't come to check on me. Her concern would only make me feel worse. I felt emotionally drained, the turmoil of the previous day taking its toll on me. I was pretty sure I could sleep for a week and still be tired.

I lifted my head, ignoring the ache in my neck that came from lying awkwardly last night, and looked at my clock. It was nine, much later than I thought it had been. My mother was at work again today, so I had the house to myself. I sighed, rolling onto my back and stretching my arms above my head. My stomach rumbled, and I groaned. As fun as it would be to lie in bed all day, my body seemed to have other plans for me. One of those involved eating. I hadn't had much yesterday, and my stomach demanded nourishment.

My shower was quick, my stiff neck making it near impossible to wash my hair without discomfort. I shut of the water in defeat and wrapped myself in a towel, looking glumly at the mirror before me. The figure I saw looking back was a stranger. The person didn't seem like me anymore. Her hair stood out at all angles, and dark, bruise-like shadows hung under her eyes. She looked defeated. I couldn't even bear to look. I shut my eyes and brushed my teeth.

Eventually I made it downstairs. My feet were bare as I walked into the living room, back in my pyjamas. I really didn't feel like getting dressed today. My limbs felt like lead weights, and it took an extra amount of effort for me to walk. My whole body was stiff, my shower doing nothing to soothe my aching muscles. I flopped awkwardly on the nearest sofa.

It was a weird, I noted, for me to be this down. I was _supposed _to be Alice Brandon, the girl who always was always smiling. Optimistic, energetic and fun, all words that didn't describe me at this current moment. I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling like the smallest shock could break my fragile psyche. I had only felt like this once before in my seventeen years of existence, so it wasn't as if I knew the feeling well. It was the sick kind, the one you felt in the pit of your stomach, when you knew the world wasn't right, and yet there was nothing you could do about it. It was the kind of crushing feeling, something pressing down on your chest, sucking your energy from you and leaving you unable to breathe properly. It was claustrophobia, when everything seemed too small, and a sense of hyperawareness, when even the quiet rustlings of the wind seemed too loud. It was awful.

I was a freak. There was nothing else I could say about it. I was scared, and alone, _and_ I was a freak. A few tears slipped from my eyes, but no torrent followed. I had obviously reached my quota of tears last night. _What am I supposed to do?_ I asked out loud, knowing I wouldn't get an answer. I didn't know what was happening to me. I felt powerless, remembering how the 'vision' took complete control of my body - leaving me completely helpless. It was a scary feeling, knowing you had absolutely no control over what was happening to you. My head began to hurt again, a dull ache across my forehead, but I ignored it, pushing the feeling away.

I lay back on the couch, a familiar wave of exhaustion washed through me. I was still tired, _so tired._ I knew I shouldn't be contemplating sleeping this early in the day, but I couldn't help it. Throwing my sleeping pattern off wasn't going to solve any of my problems, but instead of fighting to stay awake, I welcomed the comforting blackness of unconsciousness. At least there I was safe from my thoughts.

_It's hopeless,_ I thought, closing my eyes, _completely and utterly hopeless..._

_Acceptance_

My eyelids fluttered open to the bright light of midday. I'd fallen asleep, and now felt oddly placid. I was extremely stiff as I attempted to move from my position, making a mental note to avoid sleeping on the couch in the future. The claustrophobia and the fear seemed to have gone from my body I found, as I stretched my arms above my head and rolled my shoulders. I sighed heavily, feeling slightly more energised than I had done before I sat down.

The clock struck noon, and although I really didn't feel like eating, I forced myself into the kitchen to have a sandwich. I sat at the kitchen counter, and made myself eat it. It didn't take much effort, after the first bite I realised just how hungry I had been, and ended up devouring it, barely giving myself time to taste it. I put the plate in the sink, and flicked on the tap for a few seconds, allowing water to wash over it. I leant over the sink and looked out over the garden. I had a few things I had to figure out.

Ever since I was little, I'd been a very rational person, thinking things through and requiring an explanation for everything. _"Why do leaves turn brown in autumn?"_ I'd asked my father at three. He'd called me inquisitive. By ten I had already fixed the sewing machine I had received for my eight birthday more times than I could remember. I _liked _knowing how things worked. Explanations and order were what I lived by. This personality trait had worked fine over the years, until now.

_How did you explain the unexplainable?_

I always had a plan. I had spent most of my young life knowing exactly what had to happen, what I needed to do to get what I wanted, and now that had hit a major speed bump. The Mount Everest of all speed bumps. I was still struggling with coherency, my thoughts random and jumbled again. They flitted from one subject to the other to avoid me replaying what had occurred over in my head. My ability at distraction was flawed though, so I caught glimpses of everything, a car, the crash, the images replayed in my mind before I could direct my thoughts elsewhere.

_What had happened?_ I forced myself to think about it. Struggling through the mental barriers I had placed in order to shield myself from the truth, I made myself replay the events in my mind and settled on the only conclusion that explained everything.

It was a fluke, just one of those things that happened sometimes. It had to be. The stress of moving must have made me extra perceptive, causing me to _'think'_ I saw the future, when I really just noticed more than usual. It made sense, I supposed. I knew I wasn't crazy. This was probably the only other rational explanation that didn't involve flat out denial. _Yeah,_ I thought, nodding my head, _it was just one of those one of things._

_Normality (kind of)_

I felt as if I were lying to myself, as I pushed '_it'_ aside and dismissed it as nothing. It was an odd feeling. Normally, when I figured something out, I would feel as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. This time, however, I felt as if the weight were poised above my head, waiting for the opportune moment to fall and crush me again. It was definitely an odd feeling. I felt as if I wasn't quite right in my conclusion, like I was missing something. I shrugged it off, putting it down to my messed up sleeping pattern from the previous few days. Everything was alright for now.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window with dismay. My poor pyjamas were on their last legs, the seams of the pants beginning to fray and the colour starting to fade from the top. That had to be remedied, I thought, adding new pyjamas to my mental list of things I needed to buy if I ever escaped from Forks for the day. I supposed I had better change, my mother only worked till two on a Sunday, and she'd be suspicious as to why I wasn't dressed yet.

Something on the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall caught my attention, and I began reading my mother's messy scrawl with chagrin. My first day was tomorrow. Great. _My life just keeps getting better and better,_ I muttered.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Twilight. Wish I did though...

**A/N:** Dedicated to **mz(.)spiffy**, for her encouraging words. Thank you.

It took a lot longer than I thought it would to write this. It seems a bit disjointed, but I tried to capture the confusion she would be feeling. This is my least favourite chapter so far, it doesn't seem right, but I had to get this finished in order to continue with the rest of the story. I'm halfway through the next chapter, and this time I mean it when I say it'll be up in a few days.

Review please?

Ostentatious Querida =]


	5. Entrance

_-Enter stage right-_

The world is a stage but the play is badly cast.

**_- Oscar Wilde_**

* * *

Entrance

No praying or offers of sacrifice could put off my first day at Forks High School. I had been dreading it ever since I found out we were moving, the worry and the stress building up inside me until I reached this moment. It was little constellation that I had arrived just in time for the return from winter break. That fact didn't stop the churning in my stomach as I thought about being surrounded, by an albeit small, sea of new people. I just wanted to fade into the background. I _didn't_ want to make a scene, and I _didn't_ want to draw attention to myself, but that was highly likely in a school as small as Forks High. People were bound to notice something new in a school of just under 400 students. I didn't know why I was so opposed to standing out, but my freak out at the weekend made me cautious. I still wasn't sure exactly what had caused me to react that way, but I was wary of a repeat.

_Ugh,_ I groaned, and hit my alarm clock for the third time that morning. I rolled over, pulling the covers higher over my head, hiding myself from the outside world. I didn't want to get up. I knew I had to, and that I was going to be late if I didn't, but I couldn't actually _make_ myself face the day. I groaned again, my voice muffled by the duvet. Drawing every ounce of optimism I had left in my body, I pulled myself slowly from the bed, fighting the urge to flop back down and stay there. I winced slightly as I threw the covers off, the cold air making contact with the areas skin uncovered in my short pjamas. I'd have to invest in some warmer pyjamas if every morning was going to be like this. _Green, perhaps._

The wooden floor of my bedroom was freezing, causing me to make my way down to breakfast on tip toe, trying not to stand in one place for too long. I hopped my way along the hall, taking the stairs awkwardly, hoping I'd reach the ground floor in one piece. The linoleum of the kitchen was slightly warmer, only marginally, allowing me to pause for a longer time before the cold seeped into my skin. Looking out of the window I noticed sun, not the regular green/gray haze I had lived with for the past few days. It looked odd, like it didn't quite fit with the damp forest surroundings of the town. I wondered how often I was going to catch a glimpse of it here. Forks_ was_ famed for its sunless weather.

I was alone again. My mother had already left for work, she'd wished me good luck the night before, telling me that she hoped I'd like it here. I didn't feel the need to add that her hope was wasted, and that in light of recent events, my chances of liking it here were slim to none. She enjoyed her new position at the hospital already; it made a change from her coming home from work miserable, like she sometimes had back home. _Back home_, I mused, as I hopped from one foot to the other to prevent my feet from getting frostbite. _Would Forks ever really feel like home?_ I snapped myself out of _that_ particular train of thought, shaking my head and turning around to decide what to have for breakfast. I smiled to myself as I read the note my mom had posted on the fridge door, as I opened it to pull out the carton of orange juice. I peeled the post-it she'd hastily scrawled on off the door as I walked over to the bench, carton in hand, in search of a cup.

_Good luck darling, You'll do great! – Mom._

I tried to make myself believe her. Regardless, she would be back from work by the time I returned from school, no doubt full of questions about my day. I crossed my fingers that I'd have at least one interesting thing to tell her about my new student-hood at Forks High. I knew if I didn't offer at least something about my day, she would assume the worst and end up worrying about me, which I didn't want her to do. I didn't know what it was, but I tried to avoid worrying my mother at all cost. I wasn't quite sure why, but I felt quite protective of her in that sense, and was totally against causing her any excess stress.

I decided to walk to school early, so as to get there in plenty of time, giving me time to acquainted myself with my surroundings, without being surrounded by the whole student body. I was going to pretty extreme methods to blend in, I knew, and at the same time I didn't exactly know why. Confusion seemed to be my permanent setting. I had specifically chosen to weak dark clothes, hoping to disguise myself, _ninja style_. My poor sequin-adorned tops would just have to wait for college. I hoped I was setting off early enough for the High School. I had a decent idea of the way there, everything was surprisingly 'just off the highway'. The joy of a small town. Well, at least I wouldn't have to worry about getting lost.

I pondered my position during the walk to school. I'd no doubt be a novelty here, a new kid, and if my last school had taught me anything, first impressions mattered. Back in Biloxi, your first impression was to be your only impression, and if it went badly you'd have to work your butt off to create a new identity. I doubted Forks High would be anything like my previous school, but I had seen people judge others and be judged themselves, and knew how easily it was for people to become what others saw them as. They seemed to think it easier to be what everyone expected them to be, instead of who they really were. I didn't want everyone to see me and get the wrong impression, to see me as some uptight panicky girl who got lost in the tiniest of schools. I wanted to seem cool, collected and, most importantly, normal. It could be asking a lot, but I wanted to get through the day without making an idiot of myself.

_Be positive,_ I told myself as I stood outside the brick building, trying to make myself walk through the main doors. I was early, I knew, but soon people would be arriving and start to wonder what the strange girl was doing, standing outside the main office, frozen still on her own. Not a good way to make a decent first impression. I sucked in a breath and walked forward, my hand grasping the cold door handle as I twisted it. _Here goes nothing,_ I thought.

I received my lesson timetable without incident. The receptionist, seeming thoroughly uninterested in me, barely looking up from her trashy romance novel to pay much attention to the new girl. She simply handed me my timetable and a school map and was done with me. I smiled to myself slightly, maybe today wouldn't be as bad as I thought. I lingered by the main office until the first few students began making their way into school, trying desperately to memorise the map of the buildings, along with my timetable. The tourist look was highly unappealing, and I shivered slightly at the thought of being cast as the helpless damsel in distress. I could take care of myself and didn't need people thinking I was fragile. That part of my life was over. I glanced up at the sky, although the sun was out, it was highly misleading. It was 40 degrees, at a push. I could feel the cold seeping through my jeans, into my skin, a slight breeze whipping across my exposed neck, making me wish I'd brought a scarf. I crossed my fingers and uttered a silent prayer to whoever was listening that my first day wouldn't be horrific. _I hoped it wouldn't be too horrific._

It was a false hope.

Two hours later I bent my head over my textbook, hoping that chemistry would be able to distract me from my problems. I'd had enough drawing attention to myself for one lifetime. The sun was behind the clouds again, taking with it all of my limited optimism. My pen was poised in my right hand, ready to take notes, but my lack of concentration had it doodling across the page, adorning my notebook with swirls and stars. As was my protocol for all embarrassing moments, I tried to block out the memory of what had happened, praying that if I tried hard enough, everyone would just forget. All I wanted to do was fade into obscurity at this school without making any more of a spectacle of myslef. I hated the fact that everyone seemed to be looking at me, trying to figure out who I was and what I was like from a single glance.

In my first lesson, English, the teacher had called on me for an answer to a topic I'd made clear I hadn't studied, when my hand wasn't raised. I had felt my face turning red as I explained to him that, back home, we didn't study Steinbeck until senior year. It was hardly my fault, yet it made me seem incapable. His comment of my lack of interest had caused a few sniggers. I had walked into the wrong room too, not noticing that the poster on the door was in Spanish instead of French. That was humiliating. Finally, the icing on the cake that was my horrendous morning, I had slipped on a wet floor tile, landing on my behind. I was officially clumsy, unobservant and inattentive in the eyes of the students at Forks. _Fabulous, _I muttered under my breath_._ I felt as if somebody had named today _'Make Alice's Life Hell'_ day. I wondered what I had done wrong in my past life to deserve this torture.

I'd had to introduce myself to the class three times. Three times I had to repeat the same speech about how I had moved here from Biloxi, how my mother was a nurse, my favourite colour was green, etcetera, etcetera. Standing in front of my new class mates made me feel extremely exposed. It was almost as if I could feel them judging me, looking me over and deciding who I was going to be, before they'd even gotten a chance to know me. The repetition was really beginning to annoy me, was it really too much to ask for someone to be original around here? It looked like all high schools _were _the same after all. I was seriously considering throwing something in there about being a serial killer, just to liven my speech up. I'd had a few actual conversations today, and most of them went the same way. _Brilliant._

It wasn't just their topics that were similar, it was the way everyone dressed and acted. The school seemed to be split into a few distinct groups – there was hardly enough students to have anymore. There were the spiky haired boys, as I had un-affectionately named them, who, of course, all sported a similar spiky haired look and some item of sports related clothes – from football shirts to baseball caps. It didn't take a genius to work out that they were the sporty crowd. The majority of the girls, on the other hand, belonged to a group that seemed to insist they wear make-up to the max, whereas layers to the minimum. Who wore a skirt in winter without tights? Of course, there were other smaller groups, and more diluted versions of the main two – there looked to be a group of artsy kids, music lovers, thespians, but that was it. There was no in between, no merging of groups, in fact there seemed to be very little interaction of any kind between them. I'd thought that in a town this small everyone would know everyone else, they'd all get along and it would be like one giant clique. On the contrary, this was very structured, almost as much as it was back home. Everybody seemed to know their place here and that worried me. How was I planning on fitting in again?

"Can I sit here?" a voice asked, snapping me out of my daydream.

"It's a free country." I shrugged; I was in no mood to make polite conversation with whoever was next to me. I didn't look up to see who my new lab partner would be, but the scraping of the stool next to me indicated that he wasn't put off by my unresponsive attitude. I hoped that whoever he was, and the voice had sounded distinctly male, that he wasn't too much of a talker; I was in no mood to made idle small talk when I had much bigger things to try and forget to worry about.

"I'm Jasper, Jasper Whitlock," he said, attempting to alleviate the silence, somewhat half-heartedly. I detected a hint of a southern accent in his address, but forced myself not to get overly excited about that. Throughout the day I found myself missing the soft southern drawl that most people in Biloxi spoke with. I turned sideways to glance at my new tablemate. He was leaning forward, his hands folded in front of him staring at the board. From his side profile, I noticed the subtle differences between him and the rest of the boys I'd encountered so far. His hair, a beautiful honey blond, was longer than the norm; he sported a long fringe which was pushed off to the side of his head. I was pleased to see it wasn't short and spiked - some of the males looked like they had electrocuted themselves that morning. Hopefully he wasn't as conceited as the rest. He also held himself in a slightly more poised manner than most, who contented themselves with slumping over their desks messily. At first impression, he seemed neat, well-mannered and more importantly, normal. I'd possibly stretch to interesting.

"And you are?" I shook my head, cutting my evaluation of him short. He had turned to face me, his blue eyes, a deeper shade than my own, peering quizzically at my face. I tried not to think how embarrassing this situation was, hardly a good first impression, him catching me staring. I hoped he didn't think I was mentally contempt.

"Alice," I answered shortly, taking the hand he held out to me. It was a little too formal a greeting for my liking, but I didn't want to be rude. It was a little strange.

"I'm sorry, I'm still new here, not quite used to the introductory protocol of this place," he said with a smile, the southern accent out in full force. The expression softened his face, and I couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit remorseful for attitude towards him. I relaxed my defensive position.

"Don't worry about it, it's only my first day." I found myself sympathising with him. "Don't you just love the small town life," I had to add, grinning back at him. His smile seemed to be infectious. When I realised what I was doing, my smile dropped and I turned to look to the front of the classroom as the teacher called the class to order. I was being too nice. I didn't want to enjoy my time here. I wanted to get through high school, then move to a university somewhere where there were more than 3,000 people in a town. I wasn't being completely difficult, I just missed my home a bit too much and was stubbornly holding onto its memory. I really didn't want to like this place more than I had to. Something about my new table mate intrigued me though, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. It was a weird feeling, like I was missing something. I shook it off, try not to indulge myself into thinking too much. I mentally reigned my imagination in, before I could even begin to wonder what that missing something was.

I watched as the teacher beginning to write chemical equations to be balanced on the board, but my mind couldn't help wandering to my lab partner. There was something slightly 'off' in the way he had acted minutes before. It wasn't that he hadn't been friendly, there was just something about his manner than didn't seem quite right. He was somewhat reserved, the only word I could think of to define it. It was like he wasn't really all there, that what I saw wasn't all there was to him, like he was keeping something back. I cursed my overactive imagination, nothing like the boredom of a small town to make you think of things that weren't really there. I was just overanalysing the situation, a little paranoid. It was understandable, first impressions counted in the high school world, and I was on my guard to act as normal as possible after my minor 'freak-out' on Saturday.

Jasper, nudging my arm, interrupted my thoughts, again. I turned sideways, annoyed, and saw that most of the other students were bent over their notebooks working. I looked at the board quickly and back to him, trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing.

"I can help you if you want, it's really quite simple," He said, an attempt to prove his intelligence to me, as he indicated the equations on the board. My first impression of him, giving him the benefit of the doubt, went out of the window and my former indifference to him became irritation.

"I can balance an equation quite well without your help actually." I said, rather angrily, and began to copy the questions down of the board. I was no genius when it came to chemistry, or any subject for that matter, but I could hold my own. I was being overly sensitive, I knew, but some long ingrained aversion to accepting help kicked in. _I didn't need their pity..._

"You sure?" he asked sarcastically, the teasing note in his voice meaning that he'd seen my irritation and was now pushing his luck.

"Positive," I spat out venomously, making sure he understood, in no uncertain terms that I would not be putting up with his superior attitude. He fell silent, and I breathed a sigh of relief, I didn't want to come to blows with anyone on the first day. I didn't want to come to blows with anyone at all, I prided myself on being a non violent person, but his attitude had me ready to hit him. The silly look on his face didn't do much to help his case either. He looked, well, he looked like he was mentally beating himself up for something. I was confused, my emotions changing from annoyance to guilt. I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I maybe should be nicer to him. I pushed it away, feeling a sudden flash of panic. _Wasn't being emotionally unstable the first sign of insanity_. I'd questioned my sanity before, plenty of times over the weekend, but it all seemed to hit home now. I could be loosing my mind. All of a sudden I felt exposed again, a feeling of nausea washing over me. I didn't like it, and I willed the tears in my eyes to disappear as I fought for control over myself. I was normal, I tried to reassure myself. My throat felt dry.

The teacher regained the classes order at that point, instructing us to carry out a simple experiment. I concentrated intently on what he was saying, hoping to distract myself from my panic with work. 'Measuring the reaction times of Sodium thisulphate and Hydrochloric acid', was printed on the board, and I realised this wouldn't be possible. I sighed, resting my head in my hands as Jasper walked off to get the equipment. I'd already done this back home. I _had_ been hoping that I wouldn't be repeating myself, but unfortunately I was. I wondered just how much of the work I'd already done I would be doing again. Jasper, returned quickly with a conical flask, placing two empty beakers in front of my face, indicating that I had to go and get the solutions. _You could have just asked,_ I mumbled as I made my way to the front of the classroom, joining the line of students who were already waiting patiently to collect their liquids.

The queue moved slower than I would have liked, and by the time I returned to the desk he was sitting on his stool, the equipment all set up and waiting impatiently for my return. When he saw I had what he needed the quickly took them off me, checking the volume, then pouring the acid into the beaker. I was quite annoyed by this display. Instead of thinking him as chivalrous as so many of the other females in the year would have, it aggravated me that he didn't seem to think I could manage to pour liquid into a beaker. _How stupid did he think I was?_ I reached for the paper as he began checking the Sodium, quickly grabbing a marker from my bag before he had time to realise what I was doing and drew a large black cross on the sheet, smiling at his look of annoyance as I did so. He simply shrugged, rather eager to get the task over and done with, and began to perform the experiment. He made to pour the alkali into the flask.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I said casually, without turning to look at him. I tried to sound upbeat, but to me, my voice sounded defeated. I felt annoyingly fragile and I shook my head again, forcing myself to get a grip.

"And why is that?" he asked, clearly annoyed.

"You need protective eyewear," I replied, shoving a pair into his arms and quickly turning to hide my smirk. If he was going to act obnoxious so could I. I heard the plastic of the legs click as he opened up the eyewear, straining my ears to hear him put them on. I smiled to myself. If he was going to make things difficult then I certainly wasn't going to stand in his way. I planned on making his time as my lab partner as enjoyable as he made mine.

"We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot," he noted as I stared intently at the beaker, waiting for the cross to disappear.

"You don't say," I replied dryly, my voice dripping with sarcasm. The scores were at Alice 2, Jasper 1.

"Well aren't we a ray of sunshine today," he evened the score with an equally sarcastic remark.

"Look," I said, shutting off the stopwatch as the cross disappeared from view. I spun to face him, but instead of giving him a piece of my mind, something in his expression stopped me. His body was braced, waiting for the impact of my words, he knew I was going to shout. He looked like a wounded animal, trying to disguise his ailment. In the wild, if you were weak you got eaten. Here in high school I was sure the same principle applied, without the act of cannibalism. He wasn't supposed to be showing it, but I noticed anyway.

I knew what he was feeling, because I was feeling it too. He was keeping on a brave face for the world, locking up some painful secret, worry, or memory and attempting to remain normal. He was an actor, as I realised I was too - we were both putting on a show for the students of Forks, hoping that if we pretended hard enough, that we may actually remain as normal as we appeared. It was startling, to see what I was feeling so exactly mirrored in another human. I felt a sudden kinship for this boy.

"Look," I softened my tone, "Lets just start again." He made no move to disprove my idea so I moved swiftly on. "I'm Alice," I held out my hand to him. "Brandon," I added on awkwardly. He looked at my oustretched hand for a minute before taking it.

"Hello Alice," he said, his southern tone making my name sound beautiful. "I'm Jasper," he said, Whitlock," he added, mirroring my pause, his hand still enclosing my smaller one. For a moment I was dazed and shook my head.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Whitlock," I said, composing myself, and it was no word of a lie. He was the first person that had made conversation with me, without feeling obliged to, all day.

"The feelings mutual ma'am," he replied, emphasising his southern accent, as if he knew how much I was beginning to like it. My smile broadened.

I couldn't understand the feeling that coursed through my body as I stood there, holding his hand. It seemed like a weird kind of relief, like I wasn't as alone as I thought I was. I ignored the nagging voices, that were worried at my sudden attachment to him. It should be strange that I connected with someone so instantly, but I ignored that too. A smile ghosted across his face, looking like it was a rare occurrence.

"Mr. Whitlock? Miss Brandon? Would you care to share your experiment results with the class, or are you too busy in a world of your own?"

The class snickered and I could feel myself turning red. The bubble that had surrounded us popped and we were left exposed to the rest of the world again. I sat down quickly, dropping his hand in the same instant. I lowered my heoutstretched ad, low enough for the teacher to miss my rolling eyes. I slumped down in my seat, trying to make myself seem smaller than I was. I could still hear the whisperings of the rest of the class.

_Fabulous,_ I thought, _the embarrassment continues._

* * *

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Twilight. At all.

**A/N;** Finally, some Jasper!!! Not very interesting at the moment and slightly OC, but I have reason for it. but more is set to come. I've decided I like the last chapter, and this is my current least favourite. I'm getting sick of these filler ones, but they have to happen in order for later chapters to make sense. Things are going to kick off in 3 more chapters, so I'll try and get the boring introductory ones out of the way as quickly as I can. Promise.

Any thoughts?

Ostentatious Querida =]


	6. Conversations

_-Cue Groundlings-_

Necessity dispenseth with decorum

_**- Thomas Carlyle**_

* * *

Conversations

As soon as the bell that signified the end of chemistry rang, I almost ran out of the classroom. I just had to get out of there. My heart rate had increased and I felt the faint hints of panic in my body. It had been building all lesson, less noticeable at first, but as the the end approached I could steadily feel myself getting more and more anxious. _You are being silly,_ I reminded myself, _panicking for no reason_. There was nothing to worry about. I leaned against the nearest wall, focusing on the poster advertising the new guidance counsellor service. I memorised the swirl of the font as I tried to shake the feeling that something wasn't right. It's just nerves, I told myself, first days were always stressful. When the feeling didn't seem to fade, I opted to ignore it, attempting to carry on with my day like a _normal _person. A discrete look at my schedule told me I had history next. I liked history, I reminded myself. That didn't stop me from lingering around the classroom door for an extra few minutes, trying to work up the courage to go in.

My procrastination allowed me to enter the room swiftly after people were seated. I handed the teacher my slip, mumbling something about getting lost, and took the first acceptable seat I saw. I ignored the seat at the very front of the classroom, favouring an open desk in the back corner. What a great impression I was_ bound_ to make, choosing the solitary desk in the back corner. _It's not like your antisocial or anything..._

I rested my head in my hands, not caring how weird it looked. My head was beginning to pound, a dull ache spreading across my forehead. I rubbed my temples, trying to dispel the feeling. I looked up, my vision slightly blurry at this point, to see a flash of blonde enter the room. I watched as he ended up sat in the only other free desk, the one I had refused at the front. I felt strangely guilty that I'd left him out in the open like that, but I pushed that feeling aside. It was survival of the fittest, and I just happened to want to avoid history a teeny bit less than he did. A snippet of good luck for a change. Although we'd agreed on a new start, I was still on my guard when it came to Jasper Whitlock. Something I felt when I was around him made me nervous. I couldn't explain it.

The lesson dragged on painfully, and I made no attempt to listen to the history of the Louisiana Purchase. I left my textbook open on the correct page, and contented myself with imagining patterns in the slightly cracked paintwork at the front of the classroom. It wasn't the most exhilarating pastime, but it gave me something other to do that repeating things I had already learnt.

Finally the bell rang, and the nausea returned. Dinner, the ominous event I had been dreading all morning. The sun was completely gone, the weather mirroring my dark mood, as I entered the cafeteria. I did so slowly, dreading what I would find, and was surprised to see that all my previous assumptions had been wrong. The rigid formalities I'd observed this morning, the separate groups around the quad area, were gone and a completely different scene, almost polar opposite, awaited me. Everyone was talking to everyone today, people moving round tables, socialising. My stomach knotted as I realised that this was even worse than separate groups. We were in beyond nightmare territory now. It was one giant group, a group that I was not a part of. I felt like an outsider again, the little progress I'd made to blend in during the morning gone. _Fantastic..._

I walked slowly into the queue and collected my dinner, just a sandwich and a bottle of water. I paid for it and began frantically scouring the cafeteria for somewhere to sit. I didn't have enough confidence to walk up to a table and ask to sit, though I knew that's what I should do. I used to think I was a confident person, but here, surrounded by new faces, I was just a bundle of nerves. It was annoying really, and I found myself being intensely frustrated _at myself_ for acting this way. I tried to ignore the feeling that everyone's eyes were on me. _You're was just being paranoid_... It wasn't the _whole_ cafeteria that was staring at me, just the majority of it. _Like that made me feel any better..._ I spotted an open table at the far end of the table, and deciding I'd rather risk being labelled the loner than embarrassing myself in front of a table full of my new classmates I made my way towards it and sat down. I felt all eyes watching my movements, and quickly dropped my head, focusing solely on my food, like it was the most interesting thing since sliced bread.

When I dared to raise my eyes, I noticed the drab interior of the dining hall. There were a few posters for the football team on the walls, but overall, it seemed average. There were students everywhere in the small room, giving the illusion that the school was bigger than it actually was. A few of those students cast a glance at me, causing me to hunch over more, trying to make myself smaller if that were possible. I lowered my gaze again, concentrating on the food in front of me that I now felt too nervous to eat.

After a few minutes, I heard the scraping of a chair near me, but I resisted the urge to look up. I really hoped I wasn't sitting at someone's table. I crossed my fingers under the table and bit my lip. The person that was across from me cleared their throat. I raised my head slowly, braced for yet more humiliation.

"Can I sit here?" Jasper asked, repeating his words from Chemistry with a smile. I felt a huge rush of relief flood through me that I was spared the embarrassment of being asked to move. A matching smile spread on my face and I heard myself breath a sigh of relief.

"It's a free country," I quipped back sarcastically, regaining my composure, though secretly glad I wouldn't be eating lunch alone. I decided to make a conscious effort not to be hostile. _And a conscious effort not to show just how happy you are to see him..._

"You enjoy history?" he asked whilst slipping his bag of his shoulder and sitting down - an attempt to make small talk. A group of girls walked very close past our table then, hoping to catch a snippet of our conversation. My face turned serious as I leaned across the table towards him, turning my back on our audience.

"Do they_ always_ act like that?" I whispered, hoping he wouldn't pick up the childishness in my voice at that moment.

"I've only been here for a month longer than you." He spoke softly, leaning in as well, realising just how many people were in hearing distance of us. "And we weren't in school for two weeks of that time,"

"Starting just before Christmas break, ouch." I forced myself to sound upbeat. Positive. Anything other than scared would do.

"It wasn't the most pleasant experience of my life," he admitted, trying to appear carefree about it.

"And _you_ haven't made any friends," I summarised.

"Hardly," he scoffed. "They're all pretty wary of me,"

"Are you a suspected axe murderer?"

He shook his head with a smile, looking relieved that I'd attempted to make light of the situation.

"They mustn't have new people coming here very often," I was trying to find a reason to excuse the student body for their less than welcoming behaviour.

"And now look, two people at once. Maybe they think they're being invaded," He said with a smile. "Has anyone even talked to you yet?" The serious tone of the conversation was back. I was aware we were talking in near whisper, but I made no attempt to raise my voice. Instead I concentrated on blocking out the noise from the rest of the cafeteria, letting it fade into the background.

"Somebody asked me if I could pass them a worksheet, does that count?" I asked, forcing my face to seem happy. If Jasper had been here for two weeks and hadn't been accepted, then what hope did I have. Its not like he had anything outwardly wrong with him. I grudgingly admitted to himself that outwardly, he was an alright looking boy. I felt a little bit of the nausea return and I tried to push the thought of being a loner for a year and a half from my mind.

"I guess we're just outsiders. This is going to be one fun year if nobody besides _you_ talks to me."

Almost as if she had heard this, a short, light brown-haired girl approached the table.

"You must be Alice, right?" she said, inviting herself to sit down next to me, shaking my hand. "And you are?" she asked Jasper, abruptly turning her attention to him, though I was pretty sure she didn't need to ask.

"Jasper," he replied, almost annoyed as he offered her his hand. She took it, holding it a little longer than necessary, as I watched Jasper's attempts to keep his own expression friendly.

"I can tell we will be great friends," she said, in an attempt to be seductive, before shifting her body to face me again.

"So you're new here," _Obviously._ "I'd like to officially welcome you to Forks High. I'm Jessica Stanley." Her forward manor had me confused for a moment, unused to people just approaching me like that. I'd half expected to spend the rest of my high school days unnoticed, and having no prior experience in introductions, I was unsure of the appropriate protocol.

"Thanks," I said weakly. What kind of a sentence was that. Thanks? It was practically monosyllabic. Great, she probably thinks I some kind of simpleton. Conversation really wasn't my strong point, I had never been one of those outgoing people that could just go up and talk to anyone. I really wasn't suited to communicate with anyone. That's why, years ago when I'd toyed with the idea of becoming a writer I'd never even considered journalism. At my last school, although I wrote for the newspaper, I never once did an interview. I was more investigative journalism, or explorative really, trying to find new perspectives on old ideas. I wrote for the fashion and current events column – no interviews needed. Jessica smiled at me, a little awkwardly and then dove right back into the conversation with all of her previous enthusiasm. _Why was I trying to impress this girl?_

"So how are you enjoying your time here so far?" She asked, staring at me with interest. I shifted in my seat awkwardly, uncomfortable with the amount of attention she was giving us. I was wary of her, but I didn't know why.

"Err... its different from what I'm used to." I settled on saying diplomatically, I heard a small snigger from behind me and turned to glare at Jasper. Of course, he knew exactly what that was code for. I gave him a look that clearly said _'what was I supposed to say?'_ raising my eyebrows slightly and shrugging my shoulders, palms up, as people did when they didn't know the answer to something. He smirked at me. _As if he could do any better...._

"How about you Jasper? How are you enjoying it here?" I asked him, turning the focus over to him. He glared at me, obviously not wanting to be dragged into the conversation. I smiled at him innocently.

"Its... different all right," he stated, scanning the room for something to compliment the school on. He mustn't have been up on the new kid protocol either. "The school colours are nice," he settled on, somewhat lamely. I smiled at him triumphantly. He stuck his tongue out at me, like a small child who had lost an argument, and resumed glaring. Jessica looked at us curiously, first at me, then to him, then back to me, seeming to deliberate something.

"Are you two related?" she asked, her head resting on her right hand, leaning into the conversation with interest. I saw through her pretences right there, the way she suddenly perked up the second something potentially interesting popped up into conversation. I'd met plenty of girls like her back at my other school, now I noticed her every mannerism screamed 'gossip'. She had clearly taken it upon herself to give us an interrogation, so she could give the rest of the school the run down later. _How very nice of her..._

"No, we're not related," he answered almost monotone, showing how little interest this conversation held for him. Apparently, the thought hadn't occurred to him to be nice. _How unsociable_, I thought, _ignoring the hypocrisy of own my mind_. I was at least going to _appear _friendly.

"Oh," she replied, looking rather embarrassed for a moment. I recognised the look that flashed across her face before she could compose it. Disappointment. Though what reason she had to be disappointed I didn't know. I felt a little sorry for her then; she must have thought she offended us. I continued to feel sorry for her throughout the awkward pause that followed, until she opened her mouth again and erased all sympathy from me.

"So how long have you two been going out?" I had taken a bite of my sandwich in the aforementioned pause, and proceeded to choke at the absurdity of the situation, swallowing my bite quickly. I grabbed my bottle and took a drink in an attempt to stop my coughing, whilst Jasper almost shouted out, "What?"

I put my bottle on the desk, taking my time screwing the cap back on before I had composed myself enough to give her a reply. "We're what now?", my voice showing all the surprise that had come with her unwarranted outburst.

"Well you are sitting together... and it's your first day..." she said in a tone that suggested her statement was completely obvious.

"So?" I gave her a look that suggested she elaborate.

"So, you two are either dating or related." I looked across to Jasper again, watching him roll his eyes at Jessica, who remained oblivious. I raised my eyebrows, showing I was just as amused by her revelation as he was. It was amazing how far down in my reputation she had slipped with one minute. I'd gone from thinking of her as friendly and kind, to being intensely annoyed at her, pretty darn quickly.

"So..." she said, looking interested once more, obviously hinting towards the fact that neither of us had answered her question definitively. I caught Jasper wink at me slyly. I nodded my head, almost unnoticeably, letting him take the lead.

"We'd prefer not to discuss our _personal_ situation," he said, giving particular emphasis to the word 'personal'. Her eyes grew wider and she watched him reach across the table to take my hand. I, being almost as surprised as her, fought to control my facial expression as he did this. Here was the girl who didn't want to make friends with anyone, holding hands with a guy she met a little over two hours ago, to annoy some girl who wanted to start rumours, giving her more ammunition. I really couldn't see what this was going to achieve.

"Okay," she squeaked, excited no doubt at a new piece of information. "Err... See you around," and with that she got up and left as quickly as she had come. I watched her practically dash across the cafeteria to her friends, gesturing her hands for them to gather in. I turned back to Jasper, his eyes still on Jessica and her friends, and cleared my throat.

"Err... my hand?" I asked, looking down at our hands on the table.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his southern accent showing, dropping mine instantly, and pulling his back.

"Well that was fun, what exactly was your plan there?" I asked, hoping to relieve some of the awkwardness. My question sounded a little snippy, and I hoped he wouldn't think I was too angry with him. He didn't.

"Well, they're going to spread rumours anyway, so why not have a little fun with it," he said, grinning.

"You move around a lot?" I questioned, he didn't seem as new to the whole idea as I was.

"I guess," he said, almost sadly.

"That must suck," was my pathetic reply.

"It does," he said, sympathetically, gratifying my comment with a reply.

There was a lull in the conversation and we sat in silence for a few minutes. My mind was a blank for conversation topics, so I alternately took a bite out of my sandwich or a swig of my drink. I was about to question him further, but was interrupted by a high-pitched ringing sound. That was going to get annoying quickly. I gathered up my things in a hurry.

"English?" he asked hopefully, and I shook my head. I was oddly disappointed by this. "Maths," I affirmed, holding up my shiny new textbook. This period was going to be fun. Maths wasn't one of my strong points. I only hoped I wasn't too far behind the course they were doing, catching up was _definitely_ not one of my strong points. I was too prone to procrastination to get anything done remotely quickly.

He stood up as I did, swinging his bag onto his shoulder. With one hand he brushed his fringe out of his eyes, sweeping it to the side of his forehead. He extended his other hand towards me, indicating he wanted to shake hands. I reached my right hand across the table and he grabbed it firmly, shaking it.

"It was nice meeting you Alice," he said in a southern drawl, winking at me sarcastically. He indicated with his eyes that something was happening behind me. I turned to see Jessica and company staring at us from across the dining hall, just as they were about to exit. I smirked, people would believe anything you told them.

"See ya," I said back, dropping his hand, before walking away.

_That was odd,_ I found myself thinking as I made my way to the maths classroom. My behaviour toward Jasper Whitlock certainly surprised me. Trusting people wasn't exactly my forte, and there seemed to be something a little off about the way he acted. Going against all my instincts, I had _wanted_ to trust him, something about his cool manner making me feel at ease with him. From my analysis, Jasper seemed to be hiding something. I wasn't a particularly observant person, but there was just something about the way that, sometimes, his smile never quite looked real and how he seemed more nervous than your average new kid.

I was just reading too much into the situation. Too many mystery books read as a child were obviously to blame for making me prone to finding the mystery in everything. _You are just being silly,_ again_..._

I arrived at the classroom as most of my other classmates were making their way in. Unfortunately, introducing myself to my new maths teacher took up a decent enough amount of time, leaving me with less seating options. I saw many of my new classmates staring at me, mostly unfriendly as I timidly made my way to the back of the classroom to reach the only open seats. Their heads turned as I passed them, I could almost feel them staring at me. I tried to walk quicker in an attempt to get out of the public eye. I was an outsider, and they were making it clear that they weren't going to just welcome me with open arms. No wonder Jasper was so nervous; the people here were pretty unfriendly. They were like a big group, a pack, complete with a hierarchy, and I clearly wasn't anywhere near the top of the food chain. In fact, I wasn't even _in _the food chain.

I slipped my bag off my shoulder, and sat down at the desk, wincing as the chair legs scraped across the floor, drawing yet more attention to myself. I saw heads snap in the direction of the sound I'd unwillingly made and mentally groaned, feeling my shoulders sink slightly in an attempt to hide from their gaze. My classmates were truly shameless, staring at me without even realising how rude it was. Maybe this was the decorum in small towns.

The teacher entered the classroom then, promptly calling the lesson to order, forcing my audience to turn their heads back to the front of the classroom. I looked up at the clock, watching the minute hand move at an agonizingly slow pace towards the time when I knew I would be free. I settled myself in my seat for a long lesson of clock-watching.

Karma clearly wasn't on my side when the brown haired girl from dinner rushed into the classroom, late. There was only one open seat left. The one next to me. I fought back a groan as I realised I'd be spending the rest of the year sat next to her.

"Hey, its Jessica, from lunch," she said when she sat down, as she wasn't sure I'd remember.

"Hi," I replied, instantly cautious of her. Her smile was too broad and her tone was too friendly. I didn't need to be a genius to tell what was coming next.

"Why were you sitting with him?" she whispered, as the teacher started the lesson. Straight to the point, I noted.

"It would have been pretty pathetic to sit by myself," I told the truth, hoping it would get her off my case.

"Do you like him?" This girl _really_ didn't beat about the bush. I didn't see what business of her it was, but I forced myself to remain civil.

"No," It was impossible to 'like' someone after having just met them. Things didn't work like that in the real world._ People don't get visions of the future in the real world either._ Oh shut up, I told myself.

"Well if your sure." I nodded in response.

With that she turned back to face the board. I groaned under my breath, resting my forehead in my hands. _'Stupid small town people and their stupid questions',_ I muttered to myself. The teacher was midway through his lecture on the Pythagorean theorem at this point. Yet_ another_ topic I had already completed.

"Bad day?" a voice from my other side asked me.

"The worst," I affirmed, without even bothering to look up.

"The first days always the worst, but it gets better." The voice assured me kindly.

"Who..." I began to ask, as I raised my head to look at who was talking to me. She cut me off before I had a chance to finish.

"Bella Masen," she said resolutely. "And you're Alice Brandon," I nodded my head. I wasn't afraid to admit she was beautiful. I felt a pang of jealousy as I looked at her long wavy hair, comparing it with my own short mess. She looked more like a model than a student, with a kind of understated beauty that would make Angelina Jolie want to cry. Her eyes were the most striking feature, an interesting shade of gold. I realised I was staring a little and forced myself to speak.

"You sound like you've done this before,"

"We moved here a year ago."

"Are they always this..." I tried to word it nicely, but coming up with no other adjectives, "...annoying?" I added in a whisper.

She nodded her head.

"Brilliant." I muttered. She smiled at me in understanding, then returned to her work. My head began to ache again and I cursed myself for not putting any painkillers in my bag. I briefly wondered if I should see a doctor, in case the blow to my head had caused more damage than I thought.

The shrill ringing of the bell at the end of the lesson didn't help, piercing through my head and intensifying my headache.

Bella got up gracefully from her seat and exited the room, straight into the arms of a bronze-haired male, who waited in the doorway. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and leant down to say something in her ear, his lips moving so fast it was hard to tell they were moving at all. I hadn't seen either of them in the cafeteria at lunch, I remembered, but his expression was the most interesting. He looked slightly annoyed, or was it worried.

He glanced over in my direction abruptly, making eye contact for a moment. An extremely awkward feeling came over me as we locked gazes, almost like we were staring each other down. I forced myself to hold eye contact in an attempt to show him I wasn't afraid. His eyes snapped then back to hers, the expression changing to that of love and adoration. A small smile spread across his face as he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She looked as if she were scolding him now, although half-heartedly. They had only been in the doorway a few moments before they joined hands and began to walk away together. The whole exchange was more than a little confusing. Bella threw me once last glance over her shoulder, and I analysed her expression. It was pity without a doubt, but a knowing kind of pity, like she'd been in my position before.

I sat slightly mystified before I began to gather my belongings. Things at Forks High certainly were different.

_Alice,_ I whispered to myself, _You're not in Biloxi anymore..._

* * *

**Disclaimer;** I don't own Twilight. If I did, Breaking Dawn would have had a lot more Jasper.

**A/N;** I'm not a big fan of this chapter either. Surprise, surprise. Jasper's being friendly, but they will not be getting together any time soon. I have yet to put my evil plan into action *evil laugh*. One more boring chapter to go everyone, then action! I decided to but the Cullens into this story, because, seeing as the story_ is_ in Forks, its a shame to miss them out. They will not have a major role in this story though (but don't hold me to that). If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

I realise the quote doesn't seem to make much sense, but I liked it. Nothing like a bit of 'ye olde english' to brighten up your day.

All helpful comments are welcome. I feel like I'm begging when I say - please review. Even if its just to say you liked it (I hope you did). A little treat will be available to all who do.

Ostentatious Querida =]


	7. Crescendo

_-Exposition-_

The people and circumstances around me do not make me what I am, they reveal who I am.

**_- Laura Schlessinger_**

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Crescendo

Forks High was pretty uneventful after my first day. The cold air of the Olympic Peninsula got to me and I showed up for my second day at Forks High running a temperature. My second day was also complicated by the fact that I got a minimal amount of sleep the night before; vivid, fever-induced dreams woke me up multiple times, sweating and gasping as I tried to convince myself of where the dream ended and reality began. This was coupled with various bruises from the brutal game of dodge ball we had to play in gym last period, causing me to wince when I lay in certain positions. I tossed and turned most of the night, unable to get comfortable and unwilling to return to dreaming. Memories from my past fought to be replayed as the moon rose higher in the sky, lighting my room with its milky glow. I pushed them down, locking them away as I had done before. _Again and again..._ My emotions were a mess, running haywire, only adding to my problems.

The sight that greeted me in the mirror that morning assured me I was horribly sleep-deprived. _And this is why I hate getting sick,_ I muttered angrily, annoyed that my immune system hadn't even lasted a week in the cold. I looked dead. I was pretty sure I felt dead too. My hair hung limply around my face, and I traced the dark circles under my eyes with dismay. It was entirely possible that I was paler today than I was yesterday. It wasn't a good start. I splashed some cold water on my face, and wrapped up warmly for the walk to school.

The omens for the rest of my stay in Forks weren't good, and I could feel misery creeping up through my body. _You could have stayed off,_ I reminded myself as I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck. However, I knew that wallowing in self pity wasn't going to help me. Staying at home would leave me alone with my thoughts, not a position I wanted to be in. I didn't want to feel sorry for myself. I didn't want to mope around for the next year and a half.

I knew what I really wanted. _Control._

For as long as I could remember every decision that involved me had never been my choice. Even in coming to Forks, I had little to no input to say what I actually wanted. I wanted to take control back. I was going to walk into school, my head held high, and endure it. _Enjoy_ it. I wouldn't let myself spend the rest of my high school years hiding. These were supposed to be the best years of my life and I would be darned if a bit of rain was going to stop me. It was fighting talk I knew, but if there was anything I was good at, it was fighting. I knew the feeling of trying to claw my way back to normality. You've done it once and you'll do it again... I affixed a smile to my face, sucked in a deep breath and entered the parking lot. I smiled to the people that waved to me, made conversation with those who talked to me and even attempted to join in discussions in class. I was going to fight. I _had _to fight. I gathered all the enthusiasm I had left in me and threw it into my school work. My plan was in motion.

Jasper was absent from the Tuesday onwards, presumed sick for most of the next week. I thought it slightly odd, but at the same time as my thought, I sneezed. If his southern accent was anything to go by, he would probably have the same intolerance to cold that I did. _Poor boy..._ I ate lunch with some people from my English class in an effort to appear sociable. Jessica Stanley was one of them, but luckily she seemed to have lost her interest in me. It became apparent to her that, although I was from the city, I wasn't much more than your average teenage girl. I didn't have much in the way of gossip to satisfy them with, but something about me must have been interesting as my presence at the table became a regular thing. It was easy enough to slide into their ranks, and I found myself relaxing as the conversation became less and less forced. _Alice Brandon - Social Butterfly..._

There were others at the table too; Angela, a quiet girl who had the same French class as me; Mike, who was in gym, and a few others. They all seemed nice enough and really did try to make me feel welcome. I smiled a lot, but surprised myself when I was able to make conversation. _Maybe Forks won't be as horrible as you thought..._ However, there were still times when I felt uncomfortable in my surroundings. Times when I found myself being overwhelmed by the activity in the cafeteria; the voices blending together into a dull roar that I wasn't a part of. There were times when my head pounded and I felt more like a spectator than a part of the group. It was an odd feeling, a kind of out-of-body experience, like I wasn't even all there. _Stupid weather, _I cursed as I sneezed for what felt like the hundredth time. I was blaming my cold.

It was at lunch on my second day that I was introduced to the Cullens. Two girls and two boys, that sat at the far end of the cafeteria, the same table I had sat at with Jasper on my first day. It was a general rule that they abstained from all contact with the rest of us _'mere mortals'_, as Jessica put it when she saw them walking into the cafeteria. I detected a hint of jealousy as she pointed them out, but I decided against calling her on it.

A perfect blonde came into view first, followed by a burly dark-haired male. They were both beautiful in the extreme, and I instantly knew why Jessica sounded so envious of them. They looked like they had both stepped right out of a movie - I was almost certain there wasn't a hair out of place. The girl had an admirable taste in clothes, slightly more ostentatious than my own, but she wore them well. Heck, even the boy 'wore them well'. Their whole appearance suggested they were in a different league from the rest of the cafeteria. It could have been maturity or their mannerisms, but even at a glance, I could tell there was something different about them.

"Rosalie and Emmett," she said, her tone riddled with jealousy as she turned her eyes to the girl, snapping me from my fashion appraisal. _Interesting names,_ I found myself thinking. Then again, everything about them screamed 'interesting'. I looked around at the rest of the students, quickly doing a mental comparison in my head. They couldn't be from around here.

"They moved down from Alaska 2 years ago," she continued, as if she knew what I was going to ask, "_them_ and two others, something about Mrs. Cullen wanting to live in a small town. Apparently, Dr. Cullen is this really talented surgeon." She continued talking, giving me their entire back-story. I watched as the girl who talked to me in math walk over to their table. I kind of expected it, remembering the way she looked yesterday. Her curled hair had been flawless. There was another similarity too, something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I knew it was there.

"Bella," Jessica only gratified her with a name. I could almost see her turning green as she looked over at the table. A few moments later she was joined by the bronze-haired boy.

"And that's Edward," Jessica told me, adding in a mournful sigh that had me muffling a snigger with my hand. She didn't notice though, too content to stare at the poor boy like he was a piece of meat.

"They never talk to anyone," she told me once she was done ogling, informing me of their cardinal flaw. My expression obviously didn't show the reaction she wanted as she sighed, exasperated. "I mean, they only answer the teachers when they ask a direct question. That's rude, right?" She turned to the rest of the table for back-up. They nodded in agreement.

"Oh," was all I could think of to say. I forced myself to look a little bit more shocked. I could have mentioned how Bella had talked to me, but I thought better of it. Edward turned his head, looking at our table for a moment. Jessica perked up, smoothing her hair, and I rolled my eyes imperceptibly at the action. I felt a little sorry for her - she was clearly oblivious to his lack of interest.

"You haven't heard the worst of it," She leaned forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. Edward had returned his gaze to Bella, and from the corner of my eye I could almost see him shaking his head.

"They're all _dating_," _Shocker._ "_And_ they live in the_ same_ house." I fought the urge to raise my eyebrows. "That's not right," She looked to the rest of the table to back her up on this. They did, of course, with more nodding and the occasional grunt in agreement.

"Are they related?" I asked, though I didn't see them as the incestuous type.

"They're all adopted. Dr. Cullen and his wife can't have kids, so they adopted. They found Edward when he was eight, and they decided to adopt more around his age. I don't think Mrs. Cullen can have kids," She shrugged, as if this fact cancelled out their generosity.

Further gossip followed, more tales of their 'rudeness and superior attitudes' took up the rest of the lunch hour. _I_ remained unmoved by the whole 'introduction'. Sure, it was a little weird that they lived together and were allowed to date, but the Cullen family seemed nice enough. I couldn't bring myself to look down on them the way the rest of my classmates obviously did. Never judge a book by its cover, or something like that. I resolved to ignore whatever rumours I heard about them. Goodness knew what people were saying about me behind my back. I looked back at the table, feeling a little sorry that they were subjected to such distaste.

Jasper's absence meant I was lab partner-less for the rest of the week, but I tried not to dwell on it. I preferred the silence, I told myself, it allowed me to take accurate notes whilst everyone else chattered with their next-door neighbours. To my great surprise I found myself beginning to enjoy Chemistry more. My focused attitude carried over into other lessons, helping me to stay on top of the workload.

I'd forced myself to return to Thriftway, seeing myself assigned to grocery duty that week, as a result of my mother's new hectic schedule. Well, that was my cover. I was testing myself, evalutating my mental state in the only way I knew how. _You don't want a repeat of..._ Some part of me wanted to know if I would freak out again, and that was the part that forced me, despite my aprehension, into the store to confront my fears. It was generally uneventful, thankfully, though I was sure the woman behind the counter recognised me from somewhere. I smiled politely, shifting uncomfortably under her scrutinous gaze. Then I remembered, she was the one who served me during my mini 'freak-out' as I'd so affectionately named it. She looked like she was dying to say something, but she resisted, and I was grateful for that. I still hadn't found a solid explanation for what went on that day, and my ability to lie on the spot was severely lacking. We exchanged little conversation, and I left the store as quickly as possible, trying to avoid anything that could trigger a relapse. I allowed myself to smile a little as I walked back home. My test had been a success - I was perfectly normal. _Wasn't I?_

The days passed by quickly, and soon I found myself at the beginning of my second week in Forks. I pleased myself by being able to find my way around the school without aid, finally feeling like I was getting to grips with everything. However, I still felt uncomfortable in my surroundings. My cold stuck with me; I hoped I wasn't getting the flu. My nights were filled with dreams. Swirls of colour jolted me awake at night, scenes playing before my eyes that I was unable to remember the instant my head left the pillow. I got the oddest feeling like things were unfinished, like I'd just missed the pivotal moment of a film. I was missing something, and that annoyed me more than the fact I was being kept awake by vivid dreams.

It was a Tuesday now, and another restless night had made me horribly early for school. I decided to walk a different way, killing time by doing a circuit of the town, before approaching the school from the other side. I'd never seen much of Forks further than the high school and chose to use this extra time to 'explore'. Of course, this ended up in me losing track of time and having to briskly walk in the direction of the school. I looked at my watch, and quickened my pace, not wanting to be late. In my hurry I forgot to watch where I was going. A patch of ice, left from a particularly cold night, left me skidding into some poor person who was rounding the corner. They glanced off the side of me, their elbow knocking me, dazed, into a wall. How rude, I _should _have thought, but the instant our bodies came into contact, something much more horrifying happened that simply getting bruised. I gasped as my mind jolted and I froze.

My vision blurred for a fraction of a second, then refocused on something I knew full well I shouldn't be seeing. It was the parking lot. A truck laden with logs drove past noisily, then silence. I saw a boy standing impatiently by one of the cars in the parking lot, shoulders hunched, fiddling with his iPod, putting his headphones in both ears. He leant against one of the only lampposts in the parking lot, standing on the pavement and seemingly gazing out into the forest at the edge of the school grounds. A wisp of blonde hair escaped from his hat, blowing across his face before he wiped it away. His back was turned on the oncoming cars and he was now focused on his mobile phone. He looked anxious, almost jumpy. Few students were milling around, but he stood out the most. I recognised him, but I wasn't sure from where yet.

From the corner of my sight, something caught my attention. I watched as a van turned the corner into the lot. Everything seemed to be as normal, until it turned sharply. There was ice on the road. I felt sick, not needing to see the rest of this to know what was bound to happen. He didn't notice the van speeding towards him. The sound of tires screaming filled my ears as I began to catch snippets of sound. I could hear breaks screeching, but I could tell they wouldn't do any good. It was eerie, like I was replaying something that had already happened in my mind. More sounds came, an engine, more cars, and the faint rustle of leaves. My mind was being assaulted with sounds and sights, too many for me to comprehend at once.

I tried to focus on what was happening. A few other people around him had noticed the van by now, but they were too far away to do anything, or see the threat it was about to pose. My emotions were haywire now, panic, fear, dread, and then guilt, anger, hopelessness. I could barely keep track of everything. It was a barrage of information, my mind was like a sponge, soaking everything up, but I felt overwhelmed, like a weight was suddenly pressing down on my head and shoulders. I tried to shout out as it mounted the pavement about to collide...

I wanted to turn my head, close my eyes, but the vision didn't fade. I tried to scream, but I couldn't hear my body do what my mind wanted it to do. All I heard was the sound of the van mounting the pavement, and the metallic crunch of it colliding with something. It felt like a bad horror movie, though I wasn't given the choice to stop watching. The boy was now obscured from view, but the van shuddered to a stop, folded around the lamppost. He didn't stand a chance...

As suddenly as it came, it ended. I blinked furiously, my eyes refocusing on the scene around me. I was still exactly where I'd been when he'd pushed past me but my body was stiff, frozen, as my mind struggled to comprehend what I'd just 'seen'. I watched the figure disappear down the road, getting further and further away. The figure wearing the same clothes as the boy.

I felt sick to the pit of my stomach. I could feel tears running down my cheeks, though I could barely understand what was going on. My brain was frantically trying to catch up, puzzle pieces being slotted into place. I was numb, unable to process what I was feeling at that particular moment. My hands were clammy and I could feel my fringe sticking to my forehead. _Not again_. I felt like that scared ten year old girl again, the one that I had long been trying to repress. It was if history was repeating itself and I swallowed the bile that was rising in my throat. _It wasn't fair..._

I jumped as I was hit by a shower of water. I turned and hurled some abuse at the truck driver that decided to soak me. It woke me up, the shock of the freezing water soaking through my clothes snapping my mind into a higher gear. It could have been an epiphany or a eureka moment, but the confusion left me momentarily, as the conclusion became clear. The images of my vision repeated in my head once more and I gasped as I finally put the picture together. Blonde hair, Blue van, Truck, Crash. _Truck!_ I watched in horror as the log-filled truck rolled past the school gates, signalling the beginning of the end.

And the very worst thing of all was I had just watched Jasper die.

* * *

**Disclaimer;** I still don't own Twilight. Yep, it sucks to be me.

**A/N;** Sorry this took me so long but I've been doing a major edit of the whole plot line and where I want this story to go. I kind of got the feeling that my version of Alice wasn't very Alice-like, and I've been working to correct that in this chapter, and later ones. I hope I'm doing her justice. _(New)_ Alice may not make much sense in this chapter, but there is a reason for everything. If you don't understand, feel free to ask me questions, though I can't promise to give you straight answers. I had such trouble with this chapter too - it sounded too fillery and a little too much like Twilight. I wanted to introduce the Cullens though, because I may use them later. Alice is 'interested' in them - I couldn't quite picture her being scared of them, seeing as she fits so well into the family in the actual books.

_I've had a few comments about Alice seeming alot like Bella in this chapter, so I edited it, and hopefully it doesn't seem like she's taking on some of Bella's traits anymore. Thanks to those who pointed this out, I couldn't explain why I wasn't happy with this chapter before. I like it a teensy bit more now._

Another note, if you're reading this, a review would be nice. Even if it is to offer critism to my writing (its the only way I can get better) and to suggest some improvements. Also, check out Similarity and Contrast (a side one-shot to this story). It is Bella's point of view of chapter 6. I had fun doing it and I plan to write a few more of these explanitory one-shots, as I am aware I may not always make perfect sense. Expect another one soon.

The little review button currently feels unloved. Its calling to you... (not that that is a hint or anything *wink wink*)

Ostentatious Querida =]


	8. Determination

_**Previously;** And the very worst thing of all was I had just watched Jasper die...._

* * *

_-Action-_

Human reason needs only to will more strongly than fate, and she is fate.

_**- Thomas Mann**_

* * *

Determination

I was running down the street without ever making a conscious decision to do so. A few tears still slipped down my cheeks, blurring my vision as they left my eyes. It took my frazzled brain a few moments to start thinking in coherent sentences again, and even longer to realise what I was doing. My instincts had me sprinting blindly down the road, intent on one purpose; my head so overloaded that it could only focus on one thing at a time - and that was making it to the parking lot before Jasper... _died_, I forced myself to think the word. The only things that ran through my mind, _keep running, get there before it happens,_ played over on repeat, becoming something of a chant. _And then what genius?_ I was headed in the direction he had taken, following the path he had disappeared down towards the school. I couldn't be more than a few minutes behind him. My heart pounded out an unsteady rhythm as I willed myself not to hit the patches of ice that were scattered across the pavement. I was thankful I was wearing sneakers.

_You've finally snapped..._ my head warned me - but my logic wasn't going to stop me dashing to where he was, or would be, standing. I was probably imagining things, but something inside of me wouldn't let me take that chance. _Not again..._ I had to be sure; reasoning that feeling stupid would be a small price to pay to prove myself wrong. I _wanted_ to be wrong. I _had _to be wrong. But to prove myself wrong I had to get to the parking lot to confirm that Jasper wasn't getting hit by a van.

My heart pounded in time with my footsteps. _Thump..._ An invisible rope had attached around me, pulling me towards the lot without giving me a choice in the matter. I couldn't stop moving, even if I wanted to. _Trust your gut,_ the words of my father, echoed around my head, agreeing with my course of action. It seemed to be an instinct, and without better argument that my questionable mental stability, I continued along the street, my breathing turning into panting as I pushed myself harder.

_Keep running..._

The feelings coursing through my body weren't helping the matter. It was like I had split in two and both parts of myself were warring with one another. In short, I was an emotional wreck. _Again..._ One part wanted to stop running, to ignore whatever I'd seen and convince myself it wasn't real. It wanted the comfort of normality, what I had been so close to acquiring as I began to settle in to my new surroundings. It was telling me I couldn't take another emotional upheaval, that stress had caused hallucinations, and I was indulging in my fantasies if I continued running down the road, believing I had seen the future. It was the more rational side, the side I most wanted to obey.

_Get there before it happens..._

The other part, the more dominant part, was the reason I was still running. It was the unshakeable feeling that I was right, that I wasn't crazy and that something really was going to happen. The feeling forced me forward, no matter how much I tried to deny it. It was the motivation behind my every hurried step toward the lot. It was knowledge, a belief that although it didn't make sense, the facts were there and they had to add up to something. Deep down I wanted to be wrong, I _desperately_ wanted to be wrong, but I was guilty until proven innocent. _Psychic until proven otherwise... _I couldn't afford to take another chance. I wasn't risking Jasper's life to prove I was sane.

_Keep running..._

The death would be on my hands. I wasn't the one driving the van that would cause Jasper to meet his untimely end, but in my mind, I would be equally responsible. I had to try. I had dealt with guilt before, the horrible, all-consuming emotion that could slowly swallow an individual whole, plunging them into a darkness they had never known before. It could eat away at you, slowly ripping away chunks of you until you became a shell of your former self. Until you became nothing... I knew I couldn't live with it, with someone's life on my conscience. If I was wrong if I would deal with it. But if I was right, if there was the smallest chance that the vision that had taken hold of my mind could come true, I didn't want to leave it to fate. Somehow, I'd been given the opportunity to see this, so I had to attempt to change it. But could the future really be altered? Could my actions really change the events that was about to happen?

_Keep running..._ I gritted my teeth and kept running, the signpost of Forks High now clearly within sight.

There was also the tiniest bit of morbid curiosity, wondering if I actually had seen the future. A part of me that was genuinely curious as to everything that had happened since I arrived in Forks. It was the same small part that had caused me to enter Thriftway two weeks ago, in an attempt to prove myself wrong, _or right..._ It was also the same part that forced me to return during the previous week, just to see if I would freak out again. As much as I wanted the blissful shield of ignorance, this part of me had to know the truth. It had to know what was going on, the uncertainty of the situation driving ne almost as crazy. However, I wasn't sure the rest of me could handle it. I wasn't sure if I would be able to accept it, if the outcome became what I feared. Deep down, I was terrified that I was right. _The truth can be a dangerous thing..._

The lorry was now halfway down the road, the low rumbling it made disappearing into the distance. I pushed myself faster still, mentally cursing my English teacher for giving the class a hardback 'classic' to read for homework. Every step I took caused it to crash harder against my thigh, painfully. I absentmindedly wondered if I was going to get a bruise. My muscles burned slightly and I wished I'd exercised more these past few months; I hadn't realised just what my unfitness could cost. _Yeah, who knew when you'd have to bolt down the street to change the future,_ my mind mocked me sarcastically. I told it to shut up.

Turning onto the parking lot, I was greeted by the sight that I had grown accustomed to during my first week here. A feeling of familiarity washed over me, but it wasn't enough to calm my fears. I was still horribly on edge, like I was in the middle of a horror movie – where you_ know_ something bad is going to happen, but you just don't know when. It was eerily quiet, gusts of wind drowning out the distant birdsong that came from within the forest. There were a few students scattered about, standing by cars and talking, whilst others were ariving through the school gates. There was nothing out of place and everything was strangely normal. _Too normal..._ I also wasn't as late as I thought. _Figures..._

I bent over, leaning onto the picnic table next to me trying to catch my breath. I felt thoroughly stupid. I had let my twisted imagination get the best of me and had nobody to blame but myself. I could feel the water seep through my clothing, and I was fast becoming utterly miserable. My run hadn't even managed to dry me, the freezing wind doing nothing but make my body temperature drop further. I shivered. I was cold, wet and possibly going crazy. Brilliant...

I was at the northwest corner of the parking lot; I could see him, diagonally across from me, leaning against the lamppost. He was staring wistfully into the forest, putting the trademark white headphones into his ears. Idiot, I told muttered, unsure whether the comment was directed internally or not, hoping that I was very happy with myself. I wasn't sure what I had expected to see, but I felt a little strange as I gazed over the completely unexceptional scene before me. I shook my head, something didn't feel right.

The same feeling of déjà vu washed over me, as it had when the picture frame smashed, as I realised the sight before my eyes was exactly what I had 'seen' at the very beginning of the 'vision'. I felt faint, blood pounding in my ears and I leant a little heavier on the table for support. _No,_ I shook my head angrily, scrunching my eyes shut. No van. No blood. And one very alive Jasper standing by a lamppost. _Exactly where he should be..._

I couldn't relax, every hair on my body standing on end. _See, he's alive, nothing is wrong, _I tried to tell myself, but somehow, my reassurances sounded false. My body was rejecting this conclusion, preventing me from glossing over the truth with superficial observations. I took a shaky breath, as I approached borderline hysteria for another time. I fought for control, every instinct screaming at me to run. I could feel my hands trembling as I ran them through my hair, my muscles tensing in my legs and arms, as if my body were preparing to react to something. Like an animal sensing danger, my subconscious seemed to think trouble was coming, even if my mind hadn't acknowledged the risk yet.

"Jasper," I called, trying to make it sound as casual as possible. I meant it to sound like a friendly 'hey' across the parking lot, but I could hear my tone verging on hysterical. A few heads turned, but not the right one. They gave me a puzzled look before returning to their respective conversations. He wasn't paying attention. _Idiot,_ I muttered, this time definitely directed at him, as I noticed his headphones. If I could just get him to move, then it wouldn't be so much like... I didn't get a chance to finish my thought.

A sound, a rumbling sound, the deep vibrating sound of an engine filled my ears. Every other noise was drowned out, except that one. I felt sick again, my hopes of normality shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. A few milliseconds was all it took for my mind to pinpoint the exact moment I had heard the sound before – in the vision, as the van came onto the scene. _It was beginning..._

Nobody else paid any attention, the hill at the entrance to the parking lot was notorious for the older cars, often causing them to struggle noisily, especially in icy conditions. It wasn't particularly unusual, but I could hear the subtle difference of this engine, from every other I had heard before it. Everything was going wrong, my head was spinning and I had to lean on the table again to stop myself from falling. The sick feeling was back, bile rising from the pit of my stomach and I dug my nails into my palms – using the pain as a distraction from my other, more pressing problems. I knew what I was hearing, my physical reactions confirming my fears. It was _the _van.

And Jasper was still standing across from the parking lot, leant against the lamppost, oblivious to his soon-to-be fate.

We are faced with choices every moment of our lives. My next move, however, wasn't a choice. All I could think of was stopping the vision from happening, and I was prepared to do anything in my power. I won't let him die.

"Jasper," I shouted, louder this time, but in vain as he failed to hear. I moved, guessing I had little under twenty seconds to make it across the lot before the van hit him. A mixture of adrenaline and fear forced me forward, with little concern for my own personal safety. The thought of putting myself in the firing line never crossing my mind.

_Nineteen..._

I tried to make it look like I was hurrying over to see him, at least, that was the plan. If I could get across there and catch his attention, then he wouldn't be in the path of the van. He had his back turned to me, and with his earphones in it made my job that little bit harder. The noise got louder and I sped up, breaking from a fast walk into a jog, picking up the pace in an attempt to make it in time.

_Eighteen..._

Thoughts swirled round in my head, but I was unable to form anything remotely coherent. I focused on my target - just getting across the parking lot in time. I felt my speed increase. The patchy ice on the ground prevented me from getting a full grip with the soles of my shoes, causing me to exert more energy to keep moving. The muscles in the back of my calves ached as I pushed them harder, running in an odd fashion to prevent myself from slipping.

_Seventeen..._

I noticed the glisten of ice on the floor nearer to Jasper, putting together a more detailed picture of what was going to happen in my mind. The scenario played out like a scene from an action movie, with details from the present overlapping into it eerily. The van was going to hit the patch of ice, and then swerve. I knew that much. There would be nothing the driver could do. He would end up a helpless witness to Jasper's death, just like the rest of us. The lamppost would probably absorb most of the impact, but Jasper's close proximity to it meant his body would also take some of the force. I could almost see him folding over, his back bending forward under the weight of the van. I shook the grusome image from my mind, desperatly focusing on nagivating my way across the lot to prevent it from happening. _You have to make it in time..._

_Sixteen..._

I hadn't factored myself into the equation, I realised that too late. In my 'vision' I hadn't been there and there had been no trace of me running across the parking lot. How was my involvement now going to affect the future? Was the future set in stone? I hadn't considered the possiblity that this could all be in vain, that the van would hit Jasper anyway, despite my efforts. I had to be changing it, I reasoned with myself, or I would have seen myself running. What if it had changed for the worse? Could my involvement cause something more dire to happen? The what if scenarios circled in my head but I kept moving. _You have to keep running..._

_Fifteen..._

I wasn't questioning my sanity yet. In my current state it was hard enough concentrating on one thing at a time, never mind an evaluation of my mental stability. I found it was easier to go along with everything, just accepting it as a child accepts two plus two is always four. Currently, my two plus two was coming out at seven. There would be a time for questions later, but that didn't stop them from filling my head. I would deal with everything else later, planning on facing my problems one at a time. I pushed them aside, focusing on the motivating voice in the back of my head. _Keep running..._

_Fourteen..._

The engine was louder now, and I knew it was closer. A look over my shoulder gave me my first real glimpse of the van. As I ran, I watched as the offending van turned the corner onto the lot and, to my horror, speed up. My mouth opened in shock and I fought the urge to stop and stare, to watch the events unfold before my eyes. I was a rabbit caught in the headlights, but the headlights hadn't focused on me yet. The driver couldn't know what was about to happen. Nobody could. I had lost the ability to describe how I felt, a mixture of terror, helplessness and guilt swirling through my body.

_Thirteen..._

I didn't allow myself to slow. Jasper was still standing, almost motionless, next to the lamppost. If he could know what was about to happen. I wanted to scream at him, but I knew it would be useless. He wouldn't hear me, and even if he did he would probably think I was insane. Maybe I _was _insane.

_Twelve..._

My school bag smacked painfully across my thigh yet again, causing me to remember the bruise that would certainly be present there. There was no way of ditching my bag without slowing down or drawing attention to myself. I bit my lip as it swung again, colliding particularly hard increasing the pain that was centred there. Pain from muscles I didn't even know I had coursed through me, and I sardonically remembered a lecture in gym about the importance of warming up before excercise. I knew hadn't exerted myself that much, but sleepless nights and severe confusion made everything seem like double the effort. I was racing against fate, and I hoped I wouldn't lose.

_Eleven..._

I found that I couldn't breathe fast enough for my lungs to fill up with enough oxygen. My throat was in agony, the cool air I was gulping sending icy chills down into my lungs. I could feel myself getting lightheaded. I couldn't stop. If I stopped now, I knew what would happen. The truck would hit Jasper and he would die. There would be no way around it, nobody could survive an impact at the speed I estimated the truck to be travelling at. It would be quick, he probably wouldn't realise until he felt it slam into him. I didn't want to think about that, thinking instead about putting one foot in front of the other as fast as possible. _Run..._

_Ten..._

I ignored my reasoning and my aching muscles and strove for one last burst of energy. My dash across the parking lot couldn't have been longer than mere seconds up until this point, but it felt like so much longer. Every second stretched out and I felt like I was running in slow motion. It was that horrible feeling when you realise your not going fast enough, when your feet feel stuck to the floor and you know you can't possibly make it in time. My body wasn't responding as fast as I would like, frustrating me beyond belief. _Why is this happening?_

_Nine..._

My legs were beginning to feel wobbly. I stumbled a little, but righted myself before I got anywhere near the ground. I was over halfway towards Jasper now, getting closer with every step. I didn't know what I was going to do once I reached him. If I had the strength to cry at the hopelessness of my situation I would have. I had no idea what I was doing, completely unprepared I was trying to do anymore. I panicked again, but didn't allow myself to stop.

_Eight..._

"Jasper," my voice was faint. My throat rasped, dry and out of breath. It was more like exhaling than actually saying his name. He wouldn't hear me, but I shouted anyway, my voice lost to the wind. I willed him to turn around. _Please..._

_Seven..._

A screech of tyres alerted me to the van hitting the ice. I could hear the breaks whine as they fought for control. I was running out of time. Everything was moving in slow motion, my every movement taking twice as long in my eyes. My damp jeans felt stiff, limiting my movement as I fought against the unyielding material. I was cursed. _Why him?_

_Six..._

I wasn't thinking much now, desperately searching for a solution to everything. I was metres away from him, but my mind was still across the parking lot, processing what was happening. I hadn't thought this far ahead, and I was running out of time to think of what to do. I wanted this all to be a dream. I wanted to wake up and convince myself this was just a horrible nightmare. That I could deal with. I knew it wasn't true - I couldn't wake up from this living nightmare.

_Five..._

A cool breeze whipped past me, stinging my cheeks. Tears began falling as I ran. I didn't have the emotional capacity left to realise how long I'd been crying. I could see the timer in my mind, as the last grains of sand fell, Jasper's time on this earth running out.

_Four..._

A final burst of energy rushed through me and I found myself speeding up to my absolute limit. I felt bulky, weighed down by my layers and thick outer coat. My heart pounded, my chest heaved and my muscles were on fire. A car horn sounded, and I recognised it as the vans. Surely Jasper would hear that.

He didn't.

_Three..._

I had one chance to get this right. If I missed, the van was going to hit Jasper. If I was too slow, the van was going to hit me... _then_ hit Jasper... I waited for my chance, drawing ever closer to my target.

_Two..._

A deep breath. A few final steps.

_One..._

_Please, not him_ - the only thought running through my mind as I leapt.

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**Disclaimer;** Nope. Twilight is still not mine.

**A/N;** This chapter is dedicated to **hopeisabluebird **who went and reviewed every single chapter of the fic and then recommended my fic to someone else. _(Merci Beaucoup.)_ Also for pointing out my British slips (_sorry_), giving me a lesson in southern slang and introducing me to the video _'the 5 stages of death/grief featuring a giraffe'_. If you don't know what I'm talking about, youtube it - you haven't lived.

A special mention to **PixiePrincess88** - who also went through and reviewed every chapter and helped me spot the problem I had with the last chapter, (_Its been edited now, and hopefully Alice seems less like Bella - I found the things that I thought didn't make sense_) and **mz(.)spiffy** - who has loyally reviewed every chapter of this since the very start _(thanks for sticking with me)._ A bigthanks to my other reviewers from the last chapter; **_VoldieBeth, Horsegal93 _**and**_ halesgirl101_**. And to those so put my story on their story alert, or favourited it - thank you to you too. I got a great response from the last chapter, all you guys are awesome. Its nice to know people liked my work enough to take the time to review. I'm easily pleased.

This chapter was harder than I thought to write. Ten times so. Mainly the logistics of the whole thing. I did my research - seriously, I have a little map drawn and everything so I could figure out just how Alice was going to get to Jasper, without Jasper noticing the van _(or her). _I modelled it on the school layout in the movie (_bad, I know_), but there was a road right next to that one (_for my log-laden lorry_) and the actual one in Forks would probably be obscured from the main road by the street in front of it. All complex stuff; if Jasper's looking right and the van comes from directly behind Alice has to come from the left so he won't see her. It all sounded like a complex math problem, and I had to refrain from calculating the acceleration of the van, and all that other mechanics stuff. _(That's what happens when you take physics... I'm cursed) _I encourage you to listen to 'Requiem for a dream' whilst/after reading this - I think it fits with this chapter. I was listening to it a lot whilst writing this and I tried to capture the build-up in the piece in my work _(I'm not sure it worked though)._

I knew how I wanted this to play out, and hopefully I got the balance right. If something seems a little off though, please tell me and I will work to make this chapter better. I've noticed there is a lot of repetition in this chapter - I'm not sure if I like that yet. I apologise for my lateness in posting this, I know I said Monday, but my school decided that I didn't deserve to have a life this week and gave me a mountain of work to do. Feel free to blame them. _I know I do..._

I've ended this chapter at an awful place, I know. If I were you I'd probably ship me off to the Volturi for being so cruel. This chapter was simply too long, and editing the rest would have taken hours._ (I'm a perfectionist)_ I've had to split it down the middle. I apologise profusely and promise to update as soon as it is humanly possible for me to do so. _(If I say a day then I know it'll take me twice as long to finish it, so soon)._ Again, blame my school.

My Author's note is probably longer than the chapter now. Woops.

Before you go, please take the time to review. I would love to know what you thought of this story so far.

Ostentatious Querida =]


	9. Collisions

**_Previously;_** _Please, not him - the only thought running through my mind as I leapt._

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_-Reaction-_

The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live.

_**- Flora Whittemore**_

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Collisions

I was pretty sure my heart stopped beating for the one second in between jumping and colliding with Jasper's body.

During that one second there was one emotion that seemed to overpower them all; all I could feel was sheer and unimaginable terror. There was terror at what I'd '_seen_', the fear that I wouldn't be able to change it, and there was panic that came with the knowledge that if I failed Jasper was going to die. The feeling in my gut told me I would never be able to live with myself if that happened. Failure was simply not an option. My guilty conscience was warped, but I knew I'd hold myself personally responsible if there were one less student at Forks High tomorrow. _Or two..._

Doubt crippled me and I fought to keep my eyes open. I wanted to close them, to shut myself away from the world and pretend I was elsewhere - that this wasn't happening. _Fat chance of that..._ I was contradicting myself, my brain didn't know what I wanted it to do, and my eyes stayed wide as I watched his body appear closer.

My whole world was moving in slow motion and that one second felt like an eternity.

_Crash..._

My shoulder slammed into his torso, my arms attempting to wrap around his waist as we sailed forward. I hit him from the side, effectively tackling him with as much force as it was possible to create with my small body. I gripped him tighter, hoping that my vision wasn't about to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. It was the strangest sensation. I felt like we were floating as we fell to the ground in slow motion, my perception as to where the floor was strangely impaired. The shudder of metal bending and folding filled my ears. Next was the sound of shattering glass, followed by the loud honk of a horn. I tried to block it out, not even contemplating what was happening behind me; like a computer, my brain would cease to function when it reached the point of overload.

We hit the floor awkwardly in a tangle of limbs. The cruel temperature of the Olympic Peninsula had frozen the ground, making the earth as hard and unforgiving as concrete. The adrenaline pumping through my veins prevented me from feeling pain instantly, but I knew this was all going to hurt later. My shoulder blade took most of the initial impact causing me to release my hold on Jasper, my arms flailing out, attempting to bring me to a stop, as we skidded forward together. My eyes finally fell shut and one arm flew up to cover my face as I rolled once before coming to rest on my side.

There was a final groan as the lamppost prevented the van from moving any further, halting its progress toward us. I heard it settle on the pavement, rolling backwards over the glass before coming to a stop.

_Silence..._

I lay still as sound began to filter back into my consciousness, but it was hazy, like I was underwater. I could feel my heart pounding, threatening to come out of my chest. It didn't sound healthy at all. I needed to relax, and released the breath that I didn't know I had been holding. It started as a sigh of relief, but soon turned into panting as my body recognised my need for oxygen. I struggled for breath, coughing once as I realised that the impact with the ground had knocked the wind out of me. For a scary moment, I thought I couldn't breathe, my chest heaving as I fought to force air into my lungs. Fear still gripped my body, feeling like something was pressing down on my ribcage, preventing me from breathing normally. My eyes continued to water, as they had been on my sprint across the parking lot, and I tried not to lose consciousness. _As if you didn't have enough problems..._

I could feel the cold seeping through my damp jeans, freezing my skin. I moved slightly, trying to reduce the contact of my body with the ground, instantly noticing the throbbing pain in my shoulder. I could feel my face pull into a grimace. Tentatively, I wiggled the fingers on my right hand. They all moved, hopefully as sign that I hadn't sustained any serious injury. My breathing slowed to a semi-normal rate as I tried to relax. Adrenaline still rushed through my system, making this harder than it ought to be.

Slowly, I pushed myself up into a sitting positing, ignoring the pain that seemed to suggest that doing so wasn't the smartest move. My left hand moved to cradle my shoulder as I rubbed the aching joint, trying to check its sphere of movement. My eyes weren't drawn towards the wreckage, like I knew they ought to be. I _should _have been interested in what almost crushed me. Instead, my gaze fell on the person that lay a foot away from me. The person that was lying motionless on the ground.

_No..._

I watched, not even daring to breathe, looking anxiously for the movement of his chest for what felt like an eternity. I leaned forward, not even daring to hope that I would see some sign of life. My blood turned cold as my brain began to consider the possibility that everything had been in vain. My stomach dropped and I felt the overwhelming urge to throw up. It didn't seem fair. It _wasn't_ fair. Why was this happening to me?

_NO..._

Then he coughed and it was possibly the most wonderful sound I had ever heard.

He was alive.

_Breathe..._

An overwhelming sense of relief rushed through me, feeling almost foreign after the sheer range of panic and terror I had been feeling for the past few minutes. It was a kind of hysteric euphoria that had me gasping for breath once again, but this time because the crushing weight of doubt had lifted off of my chest. I gulped in air as if I had never tasted oxygen before, hoping that I wasn't about to start feeling lightheaded. Breathing normally seemed to be a distant memory for me, I was _always _hyperventilating now.

I felt my lips pull up into a smile and tears ran down my cheeks once more as I threw my head back and bit my lip to prevent the giggles that were threatening to overtake me from escaping. I was near manic for a few moments before I managed to bring myself under control again. I felt my body relax as the tension of the previous few minutes slowly diffused from my muscles. _It's over..._

It felt like hours ago, when in fact it had only been a few minutes, since I began racing down Forks Main Street. In those few minutes, time had ceased to hold the same meaning that it normally did – minutes lengthened into hours and I experienced a range of emotions that I hadn't thought possible. Muscles burned that I didn't know existed, but I was alive, _Jasper _was alive, and that was all that seemed to matter to me at the moment.

I drew my attention back to him, finding myself staring at him as if he were the eighth wonder of the world. I watched him move as he uncurled his body, and pushed himself into a sitting position. My eyes ran up and down his body, trying to determine if he'd sustained any injury. His action was slow, and he seemed hesitant at first, like a tortoise emerging from its shell. I found myself inexplicably curious. _Y'know normal people don't usually gape at others_, my inner voice reminded me. I _really_ wished it would shut up now.

I closed my eyes; bring my knees to my chest and resting my head on my arms. I felt emotionally drained and physically exhausted, wondering how I was planning to get through the school day now, after everything that had happened. I could probably use the distractions lessons presented, anything to hold off analysing the 'event'. I wasn't looking of attempting to make sense of everything. I sighed. Could my life get any_ more_ strange?

Apparently, it could.

"What just happened?" I heard a hard voice demand, the comment seemingly directed at me. I recognised the accent immediately, opening my eyes again, raising my head to look at Jasper. His posture was oddly defensive - was he expecting me to attack him? He wasn't happy, that much I could tell, his face slightly grimacing in discomfort, staring at me with a look that I could only comprehend as hatred.

"You know, you should really think twice before tackling someone again," I didn't respond and he continued speaking. I detected no trace of humour in his tone, there was no possibility that his sentence was meant as a sarcastic joke. _It wasn't funny anyway..._

"What?" I asked, finding my voice. I was confused. He was alive, but he didn't seem very pleased about that fact. I couldn't quite fathom what he had to be angry about.

"I said, you should think twice before..." he began to say, but I cut him off.

"I know what you said, I just don't understand it." I tried to explain, my voice sounding more exasperated than I had expected. He sighed dramatically in response.

"Do you tackle everyone you meet, or am I just special?" He spat out, a harsh note evident in his voice. I continued looking at him, as I expected his face to tell me why he was reacting like this. I was speechless, something that never normally happened. I always could think of something to say, but apparently not around Jasper. He had made me feel like a microscopic insect with a few sentences and I had absolutely nothing to respond with. _This is new..._

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shut it again irately. He glowered at me, his shoulders visibly moving as he took deep angry breaths. I was inexplicably furious. I glared right back at him, trying to ignore the fact my hands had started shaking. I clenched them into fists, wondering whether it was socially acceptable to punch an irritating, yet injured guy. My thoughts were surprisingly violent and I forced myself to break the connection, choosing to glare at the floor instead.

It took a few moments before I dared to look at him again. His jaw was clenched, eyes closed, an unreadable expression on his face. I should have been phased or shocked by this display, but I wasn't. I still felt numb, my brain attempting to block the emotions running through my body. I just sat there, watching him as he ran his hands through his hair. They seemed to shake and he brought them to his face, ducking his head down until it rested on his knees. He let out a frustrated sigh. I was surprised that his harshness hadn't bothered me, the feelings in my chest were nothing more than sympathy and confusion. What did bother me - the strangest thing - was that the person talking to me didn't seem like Jasper. He looked like Jasper, but he seemed like a different person. It didn't make sense at all. _Maybe he has a split personality..._

"You're bleeding," I whispered as I noticed a dark red patch forming on the centre of his forehead, just below his hairline. I stretched out my hand to touch the graze on his forehead with shaking fingers. His eyes snapped open, and I almost gasped in shock at the emotion that they held. They were wild, terrified, as they focused in on my hand.

"Don't," his voice had adopted a different tone as he flinched backwards away from my touch. He sounded so broken. I stopped moving, but left my hand in the air. It trembled.

"Please... don't," he whispered, as if he didn't trust his voice to speak any louder. He practically begged. My chest clenched and my heart seemed to shatter from this display. Something was really wrong. I pulled my hand back slowly, maintaining eye contact all the while. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered a programme I'd once watched about animals lashing out when they were hurt or scared. It didn't seem to fit, but I tried not to make any sudden movements all the same.

The nagging feeling something wasn't right returned. But, what could possibly be '_right_' with this picture? I'd had a vision where someone got hit by a _van,_ and then put myself at considerable risk to prevent it from happening. No. It was something more than that. Something other than the fact I'd seen something that hadn't happened yet, though that was definitely a thought for the day. It was something about Jasper, something more than his sudden change in countenance. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about him just didn't seem... well... _right._

Slowly, he broke eye contact, twisting his head to survey the wreckage. I mimicked his movement, and for the first time saw the scene before me. I faintly heard his gasp of shock, but I was too absorbed in the scene before me to turn to see his expression. The van rested on the pavement, the front windscreen shattered. There was a huge dent in the bonnet, where the body of it had crumpled around the lamppost, which was now leaning dangerously to one side. A few ghostly tendrils of gray smoke rose from the hood, dissipating into the unusually blue sky overhead.

I knew I should be terrified. I waited for the emotions to flood through my body again, but nothing came. This wasn't right. I had come within inches of death, and I couldn't bring myself to be scared. It was unnerving to be void of all feeling as I stared at the vehicle that had been about to bring an end to both our lives. My forehead creased as I unconsciously worried about my current state of mental wellbeing.

I felt Jasper's gaze on the side of my head, and slowly twisted my neck till his eyes met mine. For a moment, saw a new emotion take hold of him. It was the most real expression I had ever seen on his face, granted I'd only seen him once before this. But, even from that one encounter, I could see the difference between this one and every other before it. It seemed to be fear - in its purest form - raw terror that was blazing in his eyes. I had never seen him look quite so vulnerable, or so much like a real person. The Jasper I had first met seemed strong and collected, like nothing could ever phase him; this Jasper seemed to be the more human of the two. I could feel my chest clenching too, the emotions I should have been feeling when I looked at the wreckage filling me.

He swallowed, and his face became a mask again, the terror cleverly disguised as shock. The emotion was gone, and his beautiful blue eyes seemed flat again. _Wait, beautiful..._

I could hear footsteps getting closer, the distant noise of people shouting floated through my awareness. I looked up, suddenly aware of the world around me, to see the growing crowd of people. Their expressions ranged from shock to disbelief and I felt uncomfortable in their gaze. I suddenly had empathy for a zoo animal in a cage. I watched their mouths moving blankly as I tried to figure out what they were saying. It was like I were underwater, I couldn't quite hear their voices. Sound from the outside world gradually filtered back to my ears.

_Are you alright?_

_What happened?_

_Can you move?_

I knew I probably should answer them, but every time I tried to form a sentence, my mind went blank. I kept my mouth shut, feeling more and more like a deer caught in the headlights, figuring it was better to stay silent. My brain was missing a vital link that would allow me to communicate with them. I was finding it hard to take everything in, the overwhelming attention unsettling me.

"Thank you," His voice was closer than I expected it to be. He had scooted himself close enough to me so that he could whisper in my ear. I turned my head to look at him, the shock evident on my face. I didn't even try to hide my surprise at his gratitude. His eyes met mine, and seemed to bore deep inside me. I felt like he wanted me to understand something, but I didn't know what. I was instantly frustrated; I hated guessing games.

I felt exposed as I gazed at him. There was a hint of _something_ back in his eyes, and I found myself studying his face, looking for any repeat of the vulnerability that he showed before. I couldn't look away, but I wasn't sure that I wanted to either. I nodded at him, not trusting myself to say anything. _Definitely split personality..._

"But this was none of your concern," He continued after an abnormally long pause. His voice had taken on a business like tone. It didn't seem like the voice I had remembered. This was flat, emotionless. Ahh, so anti-Jasper is back, that was quick...

I felt like I had been slapped in the face. I shook my head as I tried to comprehend his words. I could feel tears springing to my eyes and I swallowed the lump in my throat. Why was I reacting like this?

"Excuse me?" My voice trembled as I looked into his eyes. The emotion they held didn't seem to fit with his expressionless face.

"I appreciate your help, but... but it's not your responsibility..." he seemed like he was having trouble forcing the words out. His tone was cruel, but it didn't seem to affect me. My senses were steps ahead of my brain, and though it was telling me to feel hurt by his apparent dismissal of my actions, I wasn't. Sometime during this whole incident my heart and my head had disconnected, and were now working as two separate decision-making entities. Instead of allowing my feelings to guide my judgements, my feelings were now arguing _with_ my judgements. Confusion didn't even begin to describe my current state of mind.

"Responsibility?" I tried to ask, but the words died in my throat. I didn't even get past the syllable. Jasper looked pained.

"How..." He began asking, but words seemed to fail him again. He wasn't looking at me anymore. His head was in his hands, he was clenching at his hair in frustration. His shoulders shook slightly. I'd never seen a male act like that. I was frightened, but for him.

"Jasper," I whispered, not knowing what else to say. I wanted to break him out of whatever thoughts he was having. I spoke so quietly that I didn't think he'd hear me, I don't even think I planned on him hearing me, but he did. His head turned towards mine, his face had the same broken expression it wore when I tried to touch his cut. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to make it stop. It looked like he was in agony. I suddenly wanted to just take it all away, but I didn't know how. I was also worried about the direction my thoughts were taking. I'd known him for a day and I was getting caring impulses. My life seemed to have changed in the most dramatic of senses.

Some of the teaching staff, alerted by the crowd, broke through the circle at that moment, drawing my attention away from Jasper. I almost laughed as I heard a few gasps at the scene before them. I could almost hear the clicks as they switched straight into 'teacher mode' and began to take control of the situation. The crowd immediately began dispersing – something to do with a suggestion from one of the staff that their continued presence would result in detention time.

I turned to look at Jasper again. The smile on his face was forced and I returned it with an equally fake one. It was about all I could manage in my current state of mind.

Someone put their arm under mine, pulling me to my feet. Another of the teaching staff stepped forward, snaking one arm under Jasper's unhurt shoulder, helping him off the floor. I didn't want to think anymore, so I just followed where I was being lead. I didn't object, my mind was elsewhere, desperately trying to provide myself with a rational explanation for everything that had just taken place. I was met with the stares of a crowd of curious students and I dropped my gaze to the floor, eager to avoid their stares. I didn't know what emotion my face was showing.

I knew my helper was talking, but I couldn't quite bring myself to pay attention to him long enough to fully take part in whatever conversation he was having. I was catching words here and there, noting the hint of indecision in his voice, as he seemed unsure of what to do with us. He seemed amazed, and I tried to listen a little harder, wondering what was so interesting about everything. I heard the word hospital and my stomach instantly dropped. I stopped walking. An ambulance sat in the parking lot. _Oh brilliant..._

"I'm fine," I protested, forcing myself to stand a little straighter ignoring my body's protests, in an effort to look how I described myself to be.

"It's just a precaution," a male voice said, ignoring my protest.

The hospital could only mean one thing. And that 'one thing' wasn't going to be particularly happy I'd managed to injure myself within two weeks of being here. This was the downside of your mother being a nurse. How was she going to react when she saw me being taken into accident and emergency when I should be in school? She worried far too much about me as it was, a by-product of being a parent in the medical profession. She would most likely be overcautious and end up watching me like a hawk for the next few days, just to be sure I wasn't going to go into shock. I remembered very clearly the flitting she had done after I tripped on the stairs and whacked my head of the floor when I was nine. She was watching me constantly, waking me up in the middle of the night to check I didn't have a concussion. It had_ 'just'_ been a precaution then too. My father thought it was hilarious, but I mostly wound up getting extremely annoyed at my shortened hours of sleep.

I sighed, albeit dramatically. My day was going from weird to worse.

My protests fell on deaf ears and I was soon being helped onto a stretcher. I noticed the Cullen's, the only people in the school more reclusive than myself, standing next to their car, looking on curiously. They hadn't joined the crowd like the others, preferring to watch the events unfold from a distance.

Edward locked eyes with me momentarily, giving me a meaningful look. My forehead creased as I tried to make sense of it. It was almost understanding, the look of someone that's been there, done that. My mind was certainly troubled. I absent-mindedly wondered who he'd been playing superman with. Almost as soon as I thought this he smiled, and dipped his head to whisper something in Bella's ear, wrapping his arm around her waist. Strange... She giggled and their focus returned to me. I was probably being paranoid, thinking they were talking about me, but I couldn't help thinking that I was a topic of conversation. Well, at least I amused them, I thought sarcastically.

The larger male, Emmett, seemed to be laughing as the ambulance doors closed, leaving me alone with Jasper and an EMT for company.

* * *

**Disclaimer;** Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. Last time I checked I wasn't Stephenie Meyer. I guess that means I don't own Twilight. _Darn it..._

**A/N;** I would first off like to apologise for the gaps between each update. My school seriously sucks at the moment, and until my exams are out of the way the most I can promise you is an update every two weeks. I know its no excuse, but I'd at least like to offer a reason. This chapter was another hard one to write (aren't they all), so _major_ thanks to** hopeisabluebird** who looked over this chapter for me and reassured me that it did, in fact, make sense. Also big thanks to my other reviewers; **Horsegal93**, **R. L. N . Tonks **_(hopefully your name will show up this time)_, **halesgirl101**, **PixiePrincess88**, **Bloodypassion**, **KatKalamity**, **Ilithya**, and **BlindingFirefly** _(Who's story you have to go and read. Its called **'Ivy Tree'** - you will not be disappointed). _You guys are all awesome.

This took a much more serious tone than I expected it to take. Originally this chapter was light-hearted and jokey, but during the process of editing (and rewriting many times) everything just got so much more dark. And here I was thinking I was a fan of comedy. I think I like it better this way though - I know I wouldn't be in the mood to laugh if I'd just had a vision of the future. I'll just make this Author's note short and sweet and conclude by thanking you for taking the time to read this. I hope you like it so far.

Review? It will make my day.

Ostentatious Querida =]


	10. Affliction

_-Direction- _

I try to avoid looking forward or backward, and try to keep looking upward.

**_- Charlotte Bronte_**

* * *

Affliction

The hospital staff were out in force to greet us. As the ambulance came to a stop, the back doors flung open with an unnecessary urgency and a shaft of natural gray light had me squinting. A hand reached forward to help me down from the back. The stretcher Jasper was strapped to was next, pulled roughly out of the ambulance and set on the floor, the wheels bouncing slightly. I'd been lucky enough to convince the EMTs that I was perfectly capable of walking on my own, whereas Jasper had been confined to a stretcher. I felt rather stupid, looking at the concerned faces around me, as there was nothing _physically_ wrong with me. _Mentally is a different story..._

There were murmurings from behind. One of the nurses was questioning Jasper, and I turned to look at them. I let my eyes drift to the small trail of dried blood on his forehead and felt my stomach twist in guilt. _You caused that... _He saw me staring at it, raising his eyebrows to let me know I'd been caught. His eyes met mine and I found myself mouthing _'Sorry_' to him. It felt like the appropriate thing to do. However, once he'd got my attention, he shrugged, attempting to either downplay his injuries or nullify my guilt, as if saying "_What can you do indeed?"_ I rolled my eyes, making sure he saw me do so. _Boys..._

The automatic doors parted ahead of us and I turned my attentions to avoiding my mother. I'd spent most of the ambulance ride considering how I was going to explain my presence here, when I should be in school - complete with a bleeding boy and grass stained jeans. It wasn't the best impression to make. I'd managed to catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass door and knew that the hairstyle I was sporting now was nothing like the one I'd had when I left the house. I looked like I'd been dragged through a hedge school bag was missing, presumed lost during all the drama, and I fidgeted with the leather bracelet that was on my wrist, trying to distract myself. Everything was a little overwhelming and I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself. _Lost..._

The accident and emergency department at Forks General was deserted. One very bored looking receptionist sat behind the desk, the look on her face making it clear she was expecting us. Heck, this was probably the most excitement they had had around here in ages. She was tapping her pen on a stack of papers in a steady rhythm, pausing only to acknowledge our entrance. I avoided her gaze, attempting to scan the department subtly for my mother. It was easier said than done, as my odd behaviour was earning me a few concerned glances from the EMTs. I chose to ignore them, more concerned with the thought of my mother's reaction to my presence, than whether or not they thought I was mentally competent.

I took in the generic public service posters, the muted green tone of the walls, and the hard plastic seating in the waiting area. The plants gave the room the only human element, but other than that, I couldn't help feeling the whole place room was detached and eerie – more like an institution than a place of recovery. I didn't feel welcome here. The smell of antiseptic and bleach didn't help either, constantly reminding me of where I was. I was sure I had never been a fan of hospitals.

I felt a cool hand on my back just as I spotted my mother at the end of the corridor.

"Best get you examined before she notices you," a voice said from behind me. I tried to place the tone, knowing that it sounded familiar. "Unless you want to see her first?" it added, backtracking in an attempt to give me a choice. I shook my head rapidly. I didn't know what to say in response, but let the hand guide me down another hallway away from my mother.

The receptionist glanced at me oddly as we passed, before her eyes drifted upwards to the person behind me. She openly stared at them, even leaning forward slightly, before regaining her composure. I heard a low chuckle from behind me. The annoying squeak of an un-oiled wheel let me know that Jasper was close-by. I found it reassuring, in a strange way, to know that he was near. Hopefully, he could act as a buffer when my mother finally discovered I was here.

I was lead into a room where beds lined the walls, sorry-looking privacy curtains hung on rails, attempting to mark an area for each patient. There was nobody else here and I breathed a sigh of relief. I was led towards a bed at the far edge of the room, Jasper taking up the empty bay next to me. I sat, and twisted around to see my saviour. _Angel would be a more appropriate word..._I looked up into his cheerful face and suddenly wondered if I'd hit my head harder than I thought and ended up in a television soap opera. I shook myself out of that chain of thought. He was... _handsome_, to use the _right_ word for it, but in a more mature, fatherly sort of way. His eyes were warm and friendly and I couldn't help but feel like I was in good hands. I wondered which doctor this was, I couldn't remember my mother describing him in our brief conversations about the others day. Blonde hair stood out from his pale skin, making me think back to my own father, though there were no similarities.

I tilted my head, puzzled. There was something about his face that made him look familiar, other than the pallor of his complexion. I knew I hadn't seen him before, but still... _something_... My brain was refusing to cooperate. It had most likely taken a leave of absence - due to high levels of confusion._ Not that it could be blamed... _I kept getting the oddest sense of déjà vu, tinged with frustration, as I was positive this was a whole new experience, but my body seemed to be thinking something different. The confusion I had attempted to dispel during the ambulance was back with a vengeance, causing me to groan in annoyance.

The doctor moved to examine Jasper first, the privacy screen between us remaining open as I watched intently as he poked and prodded his forehead. Jasper was watching my reaction to all this, as if he were trying to distance himself from the situation. I maintained eye contact, trying to figure out what he was feeling by the expression on his face. It seemed to be layered, and every time I thought I'd worked it out I would notice something else. The sadness in his eyes, the slight pull of his lips as he tried to stop himself from full out grimacing in discomfort, the way he squared his shoulders every time the doctor moved to examine somewhere new, and how they seemed to drop slightly in defeat moments later. Jasper gave me the impression of a puzzle, one that had more than a few pieces missing.

It wasn't awkward though, continually looking into his eyes. I didn't find myself fighting for breath or losing the ability of coherent thought. It felt normal, safe - though normal social conduct didn't involve prolonged eye contact. He winced then, and unconsciously I did too, causing him to grin weakly. _Sorry,_ I mouthed again, feeling a sharp pang of guilt shoot through my stomach. I'd tried to protect him from the van, for some reason I didn't quite understand yet, and because of that he was now injured. I felt useless and dropped my gaze to the floor, instantly hating myself. I felt responsible for his pain, even though I hadn't intentionally caused it. I knew that if I hadn't acted his fate would be a whole lot worse, but I still couldn't ignore that feeling - the one that constricted my chest every time Jasper looked pained. I needed to snap out of it. I didn't even know the boy.

The doctor moved onto his shoulder, and I heard him asking Jasper to take of his shirt so he could assess the bruising. Jasper's head shot up as did mine, his eyes flashing with the same fear I had seen in the parking lot. He was scared? I froze for a second, contemplating what to do, before turning my entire body around to face the wall. I heard a sharp intake of breath from behind me, and tensed as I heard the rustlings of Jasper's shirt being removed.

I began feeling faint. My fingers gripped the bed underneath me as a sharp pain ran through my forehead. It felt like my brain wanted to explode as my vision began to blur.

_"Are you alright Miss Brandon?"_

I focused on the speaker, staying in the present. I didn't know what was happening, but my body fought against whatever was threatening to overtake me. I could feel a tingling sensation in my extremities, like the blood was suddenly rushing back towards them after it had been cut off. I panicked. I clenched my teeth, forcing myself to think of something else, trying to push the feelings from my mind.

_"Miss Brandon?"_

I nodded, my tight jaw preventing me from speaking. I began to study the patterns on the opposite wall as I heard the doctor mutter something to Jasper. I caught the words pain and swelling, but I tried not to pay attention. I felt like I was eavesdropping, even though they both knew I was well within hearing range. The feeling of guilt was threatening to overwhelm me, in the least melodramatic sense possible. I knew that I'd stopped him from getting hit, I was pretty positive that if I hadn't given him a bad tackle then he would have been hit, hard, but I still felt incredibly guilty that he'd still gotten hurt. It was completely unreasonable really, to feel so bad when I'd saved his life.

It didn't stop me though.

_Bruises... _the doctor mentioned, and I stiffened again_. The scars..._ I heard, one of them talking in a low voice, causing my already knotted gut to twist again, tighter, and for a moment I had trouble breathing._ Scars?_ I swallowed thickly. What had I done to him? I was officially the worst excuse for a rescuer in the history of the planet. I rested my head in my hands, feeling worse, if that were possible.

_You saved his life_, I repeated, the simple fact of the matter making me feel insanely uncomfortable. I didn't want to be the hero. There were going to be questions. People would want to know what had happened. _And what are you planning on telling them?_ I'd had little experience of lying on this scale; I'd had no need before. Sure, there had been the occasional white lie – '_Did you eat those cookies Mary Alice?' 'No mom, wasn't me...'_ – but this so much bigger. How close to the truth could I stay when I didn't even know the truth myself?

I groaned slightly, throwing my head back in a mixture and annoyance. My hands went behind me on the bed to support me as I leaned back, beginning to swing my legs as they dangled in the air. I didn't see why they needed me to stick around and get checked out, I was pretty sure I was perfectly fine. I could feel my annoyance steadily building; the dull throbbing that was emerging in both my right arm and forehead not helping matters. _Maybe you're not as fine as you think... _Oh shut up, I told myself, ignoring the fact that I was telling myself to shut up... again. I shook my head. I didn't like how strange things seemed to be getting. The prolonged state of confusion I was in was intensely frustrating. My whole world had tilted off its axis and I no longer knew up from down. I was spinning again, my heart pounding unsteady rhythms as I ranged from uncertainty to guilt to confusion again. My emotions were a mess, and just pinning down what I was feeling was proving to be a task in itself.

I heard the sound of pen on paper and the moving of feet and then felt the doctor tapping me on the shoulder. I turned to look at him, snapping out of my daze, as he began to go through the usual checks. I was well versed in the usual routine, after receiving it countless times from my mother.

"How are you feeling Miss Brandon?" The doctor was concerned, and I made a conscious effort to appear more normal. I pushed myself up straight, locking my ankles together so I wouldn't be tempted to sit and keep swinging them like an idiot.

"Alice," I corrected him, Miss Brandon seeming too formal. "And I feel like I just jumped out of the way of a van, Dr...." I tried to read the tag that was clipped to the upper pocked of his lab coat.

"Cullen," I knew I'd heard that name before. The faint feeling of recognition filled me, and I tried to sort through memories of the past weeks in Forks to place the name to the time when I'd heard it.

"Dr. Cullen," I repeated, trying to place it. As I expected, my brain didn't cooperate. I sighed heavily. He took this as a cue to begin the exam.

I felt a little embarrassed with Jasper watching me, so for the most part I just nodded and shook my head, giving the Dr. Cullen the occasional yes or no so he didn't think me completely incapable of speech. He seemed to check everything, shining a light in my eyes, checking my pulse, blood pressure, the usual.

"Can you tell me if you hit your head?"

"No," I answered monosyllabically. Cool fingers probed my head anyway, searching for any signs of injury.

"Any pain?"

"No," I gave a quick shake of my head, as much as his hands would allow, well aware I was starting to sound robotic. I wasn't being very helpful at all, and I was beginning to get annoyed at my own attitude. _Snap out of it..._

"I'm sure I have some killer bruises," I joked, though it didn't sound very funny out loud.

He spent a little more time analysing me, more than I thought necessary, probably because he noticed the nurse in that had come into the room watching him like a hawk, noting his every movement. I groaned. I had been found.

My mother was worried, that much was clear as I spotted her leaning against the far wall, her arms folded across her front. Goodness knew who had recounted the details of the accident to her, but by the way she was looking at me, they'd made it seem much more '_eventful_' than it actually was. This was going to be a fun situation to talk myself out of. She shook her head at me when she realised I'd caught her hovering, but she didn't look remorseful. I really hoped the look she was sporting wasn't anger.

"Really, I'm fine mom. They just want to be certain," I said, raising my voice so she could hear me from across the ward. She seemed unconvinced, but at the same moment Dr. Gerandy turned around and gave her, what I assumed to be a reproving look, as she seemed to sigh and then left the room without a word. I recognized him from the time he came to pick my mother for work last week when her car wouldn't start. I smiled at him weakly and he turned and followed her out.

"She worries about you, you know," the doctor beside me said, regaining my attention, his attempts at trying to start a non-awkward conversation obviously failing miserably. Oh, so she had talked to him about me. _Great..._

I shook my head, realising Dr. Cullen expected a response. "What?"

"She's just concerned," It didn't seem nearly as patronising coming from him as it would from anyone else. He must be a parent himself, I concluded. I attempted to smile.

"I'm fine, just a few bruises," I shrugged, hoping that was what he was referring to.

"That's not what I meant," he sighed.

"Oh," There really wasn't much else I could say to that. I thought I had been doing a decent job at pretending I was happy in Forks. _Obviously not..._ It wasn't that I didn't like it here – my green surroundings were starting to grow on me – it was something else. I felt like I was missing something, a part of me that I'd probably left back in Biloxi. I didn't feel like I belonged here.

"My children go to your school, you may have seen them." he said, conversationally. I was thankful for the change of subject. "Edward called me when he heard they were taking you both to hospital, after he rang for the ambulance." Dr. Cullen continued talking, having probably noticed my lack of response.

"Hm.." I replied, more interested now. At least I know knew who I had to blame for my presence here. My mind jumped back into gear and I remembered what had looked so familiar. I resisted the urge to shout _'Eureka'_, though my expression probably showed that I had figured something out. It was his eyes; a rich honey colour that I had only seen since moving to Forks. I knew they were all adopted, but the tone of his eyes had an uncanny resemblance to Bella's, and also Edward's, now I thought about it. They were all from Alaska, I faintly recalled someone telling me that. Maybe it was something to do with the air up there. _Yeah_, _something like that..._

"What happened anyway?" he questioned, sounding more like a concerned parent than a doctor. He put the clipboard down on the edge of the bed, dropping his tone to little more than a whisper. _Uh ho..._

"Well..." my throat was suddenly dry. "I was in the parking lot... and he," I gestured towards Jasper subtly with a jerk of my thumb, "wasn't paying attention when the van almost slammed into the side of him." He raised his eyebrows at me, obviously expecting more detail, and I decided to leave out the part where I'd seen him getting hit by the van before it actually happened, and had sprinted across the parking lot to save him.

"I pushed him out of the way," That was the truth.

"And you were right next to him? You tackled him pretty hard," he asked, in a tone that told me he knew something was off, but wasn't going to push me. However, I'd never said I was right next to him. I looked at him, confused for a second. What was I supposed to say to that? I settled for accepting his analysis, nodding my head. I could probably use that. Again, I found myself thinking back to my dad - he would have liked him. There was just something about him, some quality that made me feel at ease, even though he was questioning me. I allowed myself to relax some.

"I think it's called an adrenaline rush," I said, spouting the first plausible excuse that came to mind. I watched him try to fight back a laugh. This time it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.

"I've heard that somewhere before," he said simply. I accepted it.

"So what's the verdict, doc?" I asked, "Am I free to go?" Not waiting for him to reply, I hopped down off the bed and began to stretch my shoulders. His posture suddenly changed, I noticed him stiffen infinitesimally and I stopped moving instantly. The ache was back, though I didn't know why. I didn't fall that hard. He seemed to notice my slight wince, and gently pushed me back down onto the bed. My right arm moved awkwardly. Slowly, he lifted the arm up, turning it gently, and I was shocked to see a patch of crimson dampness on the sleeve of my top. We made eye contact for a moment.

I looked down at my arm again as he was slowly rolling up the sleeve of my top to my elbow. My arm had been sliced, a clean cut of at least 2 inches. A single shard of glass rested in the wound. I supposed this was what karma thought acceptable after you tried to save someone's life. I wouldn't be hurrying to do it again in the future if this was the kind of reward I got.

"I'm afraid you're going to need stitches." He said gravely, anticipating that I wouldn't be thrilled about this development.

"Fabulous," I muttered. My mother was going to have a field day.

It only took him a few minutes to stitch up the wound. I watched, strangely fascinated as he sewed up my arm with amazing precision. I couldn't feel anything except the slight pulling of my skin – a weird out of body experience. It didn't feel like it was my arm at all, more like someone else's. I couldn't say anything much though, mesmerised by the movements of the needle. I really was messed up.

"Where are you going?" I asked as he began to walk out of the room. I looked at him expectantly as he returned to stand beside me. He finished bandaging up my arm now, but it seemed a little weird to leave me here now it was done.

"I'm just getting you something to help with the pain." He reassured me.

"But I don't feel anything..." I tried to protest, but he put a hand on my good arm, signalling for me to stop talking.

"Trust me, you will later," he said kindly, before turning and leaving the room.

I turned my head to face Jasper. An uncomfortable silence surrounded us, as we both sat, unmoving, looking at each other. Dr. Cullen had turned me around when he began to work on my arm, giving Jasper a front row seat of the show. It was cripplingly awkward and neither of us seemed to want to be the first to speak. He was thinking, and I prepared myself for an onslaught of questions. I still felt incredibly guilty, even though the graze on his head looked a lot better now the trail of blood was gone.

Jasper eventually broke the quiet with the question I had been dreading.

"How did you get over there so fast?" He dropped the tone of his voice to a whisper. Everything seemed so loud after the silence we had been sitting in. I had hoped that he wouldn't ask this, that he'd be able to accept what had happened and move on, but it was unreasonable to think this would happen. I couldn't tell what he was feeling by his expression; I'd never seen anything like it before. I wanted to know what was going on with him. I wanted to know why he was reacting this way, but I had a feeling he wouldn't tell me if I asked.

"I ran." I couldn't lie to him. It was absurd that I felt compelled to tell him the truth – even a severely edited version of the truth. I immediately cursed myself, what was I thinking?

"Why?" he asked, dumbfounded. His eyes pleaded with me, begging for me to give him reason. It was a reaction more expected from a torture victim than from someone who had just been saved. It felt like he was asking me something else entirely.

"I don't know." I answered simply, my voice barely a whisper. Would I have risked my life if it was anyone other than Jasper? It was a question I didn't want to answer. I wasn't given much time to dwell on it.

A small rectangular box was placed in my hand. I looked up, not expecting Dr. Cullen to return so soon. My mother mustn't have cornered him. _Yet..._ "Take them every three hours. Don't wait for the pain to start first."

I nodded, really not trusting myself to speak. I wanted to run, to get away from everyone as everything was slowly catching up with me. It was like I was stuck in quicksand, the confusion steadily building as I sunk lower and lower, until only my head was showing, desperately trying to stay above the sand.

"Now you are free to go," he said, repeating my words, thankfully breaking the tense silence of the room. "But try not to throw yourself in the path of any oncoming vehicles in the near future,"

"I'll do my best," I joked, raising my hand in a mock salute. I tried to sound happy, but my voice cracked, giving me away. I turned around and hastily retreated out of the door. One of the Cullen boys passed by me on the way out of the room, moving slightly to stay out of my way. Edward perhaps?...

"Alice," my name became some kind of greeting. I nodded at him in response and carried on walking.

I wasn't thinking, shutting myself down until I was just doing the tasks I needed to do to get past everyone and then home. I walked around the corner, into a long corridor that ran to the entrance noticing two police officers in the corridor as I turned to leave. They were watching the exit and didn't see me as I passed. I sped up, hoping to avoid anyone who might be waiting in the entrance. I wasn't fast enough.

"Mary Alice Brandon," I winced at the shrill sound of my full name being spoken. I knew I was in trouble.

"Hi mom," I said sheepishly, ducking my head so I couldn't judge how angry she was. The floor was suddenly extremely interesting to me. I began to trace patterns on the tiles with my shoe.

"Don't you dare 'hi mom' me," I jumped at the tone of her voice. She was livid by this point. "Would you care to explain how you managed to land yourself here and I only found out when I overheard a conversation some other nurse was having?" I stepped backwards, trying to put more distance between myself and her.

"I don't have my cell phone..." Which wasn't exactly a lie. There was no one who was going to contact me, so it was safely 'stored' in the drawer next to my bed. The battery was probably flat anyway.

"Never mind that, are you alright?" Her tone softened considerably as the worst of her wrath was over. She never could stay angry at me for long, but I feared there would be a sequel to her brief questioning.

"I'm fine mom, honestly," I was pleased at how convincing I sounded. "I'll see you at home okay?"

"Your not going back to school, are you?" she worried, moving forward to begin her own inspection of me.

"You should probably take the rest of the day off, just to be on the safe side." Dr. Cullen joined us in the corridor, appearing from the door I assumed lead to his office. "Do you know where you're going?"

"Err..." In all my time at Forks I'd never found the need to go to the hospital, and since the back of the ambulance had no windows to speak of, I was pretty unsure of my current position. "No" I admitted in defeat. "But how lost can I get in Forks?"

My mother however, seemed to think that there was every possibility I could get lost. "I don't think it's wise to have you wandering the streets, I could take you, if you wait till my shift ends, or I could try and get some time off..." I could see if they would let her have some time off, then I was going to face the interrogation of my life. I silently pleaded to whoever might be listening to give me an alternative.

Dr. Cullen's expression changed minutely, as a thought seemed to come to him. "How about I have my son drive her home?"

My mother looked at him blankly, like he was speaking in a foreign language. I looked at him expectantly.

"He's already here, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind at all." He explained, flashing my mother a reassuring smile. "Emmet?" he called, looking over his shoulder, not giving her a chance to refuse. The larger Cullen appeared from the doorway of Dr. Cullen's office. My mother still hadn't responded. "You wouldn't mind taking Alice home, would you?"

"No problem, Carlisle." He willingly replied to his father. "If that's alright with you?" He turned to face me, a non-threatening smile on his face. I didn't detect a hint of resentment in his voice, he didn't seem bothered by this obligation. I smiled at him nervously, causing his grin to widen.

I looked from him to the face of my mother. My alternative was getting her to drive me home. She could probably swing the morning off, which she would spend fussing over me.I nodded quickly, not needing to think any longer. The whole Cullen family had such interesting voices, I noted, as I heard the clink of keys being exchanged hands.

"The paperwork is mostly filled in Ms. Brandon," Dr. Cullen turned to my mother. "There are just a few signatures I need before its all in order," They broke off to form their own private conversation, shifting slightly, blocking me from the conversation. I smiled as I saw him reassuring my mother; I hoped that he'd put her mind at ease. I needed time alone, which couldn't be achieved if she was watching my every move.

"See you at home mom," I waved quickly to my mother, before turning and follow Emmett, who had begun walking, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace. I was about to break into a jog when he slowed down to a more reasonable speed. I let out a breath, relieved that I was on my way home. Sanctuary...

I managed to avoid most of the curious eyes in the waiting room, letting Emmett block their view of me. Standing close to him, I realised he towered over me, and used this to my advantage. He led the way to an impressive black vehicle that sat close to the hospital doors in the parking lot. I didn't know much about cars, but it looked shiny... and expensive. He opened the passenger door for me and managed to be in the driver's seat before I'd finished strapping myself. It wasn't much of an achievement as my bandaged right arm was hampering my progress.

"That was some pretty impressive sprinting you did this morning," he said, a weak attempt to break the tension. I blanched.

"Seriously, I'm impressed. You ever thought about trying out for the track team?" He laughed, turning to me, eyebrows raised, doing a perfect imitation of Coach Clapp. I couldn't fight the grimace that crossed my face at the thought of gym. Obligatory physical activity never really appealed to me. Emmett ignored my expression, instead starting the car. He pulled effortlessly out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You saw that?" I finally gained the courage to ask. From the corner of my eye I saw him nod. My head fell to my hands. Oh man, I muttered. There went my, I-was-right-beside-Jasper, plan.

"Don't worry, no one else did." He added quickly, sensing my problem. I looked at him, confused. Why would he be telling me that? "And I don't plan on telling anyone either." Forks was racing past me and I had a feeling that he were travelling well above the speed limit. I craned my neck to look at the dashboard. 70 miles per hour. _Awesome..._

"What... really... why?" I couldn't find the right question to ask. He was going to help me cover it up?

"It's none of their business," he added as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, turning his expression back to the road ahead. I felt a little more settled now his eyes were off me and were instead helping navigate the way ahead. He seemed to be in perfect control, driving through the streets with ease.

"Err... thanks," I added, not really knowing what else to say. I turned to face him. He smiled at me kindly, the gold in his eyes mirroring that of Carlisle's and Bella's. I wondered if the whole family had the same interesting colour.

"So what did your _boyfriend_ think of your athletic abilities then?" he teased, his eyes sparkling as he noticed my embarrassment.

"He is not my boyfriend." I snapped, staring out of the window. From the corner of my eye I could see him raising his eyebrows at me, but he said no more. We pulled onto a familiar street and I recognised my house. I felt the car slowing and we came to a stop on the pavement.

"Thanks for the lift," I thought to add as I clambered out of the passenger seat, trying to avoid jostling my arm too much. It had begun to rain, and my face was lightly soaked in drizzle by the time I turned to shut the car door. He nodded at me once, much like Edward had done back at the hospital, before starting the engine. I watched as the car drove away, speeding down my street before turning the corner out of sight.

I stood on the pavement for a few seconds longer, ignoring the rain that was beginning to fall heavily now. Something was pulling at my memory, random wisps of thought floating around my cluttered brain. I was missing something. My mind kept hitting a blank every time I tried to figure out what it could be, like a brick wall had been constructed, blocking out any memories that would help me in the arduous task of remembering details that could help. It was going to be a slow process.

All I knew was that I needed to figure out what that _something_ was.

* * *

**Disclaimer;** If I owned Twilight I would be rich, therefore wouldn't have had a mechanics exam on Friday. I did have a mechanics exam on Friday, so we can safely assume that Twilight is not mine. Not even Jasper. _*sigh*_

**A/N;** Dear Readers,

I did warn you there would be a long wait. In any case, I still feel the need to apologise again. I'm in the thick of my exams at the moment, and most of my time is taken up studying. Sorry guys, all I can ask you to do is be patient and hang in there. As soon as my exams are over, I'll be back to a decent writing schedule and hopefully will be able to post chapters a lot faster.

This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend and editor/beta/whatever-she-wishes-to-be-titled _**hopeisabluebird**. _She's awesome and the main reason this chapter makes sense. Bluebird, we salute you. Why not check out her story _'Awake Unto Me'_ if you're looking for some good AH Alice and Jasper fiction. Go on... _you know you want to..._

Also massive thanks to my reviewers; _diehardTWIhard, hopeisabluebird, BlindingFirefly, SimplyDazzling, R. L. N. Tonks, mz(.)spiffy, Lucy Alyce, Ilithya,_ _halesgirl101 _and_ PixiePrincess88_. Thanks for taking the time to give me your opinions, I love you all for it. And thanks to everyone who has put my story on story alert. You guys are awesome too.

Hope this chapter wasn't too confusing. I tried to make everything as clear as possible (but then again, it is called Ambiguity, so some confusion is a given). I was a little unsure of Carlisle's reaction to Alice - but after a lot of editing I think I've got it as in character as possible (as would be seen from Alice's point of view). I do have the Carlisle sections of this chapter written from his point of view, and when the story further progresses I will be able to post that as a companion to this chapter - then his motives may become clearer. Remember that Alice would still be very confused at this point - I mean she's just had a vision of Jasper getting hit by a van... I know I'd be freaking out. Carlisle, ever the concerned doctor just wants to make sure Alice is alright - and not make her mother worry too much. Compassion is one of Carlisle's skills, if you will, so it may seem like he's acting a bit too fatherly towards Alice after just meeting her, but that's not supposed to be the case.

Oh and Emmett, his dialogue is not as _'fun' _as I would have liked it to be, but he can't be too relaxed around Alice, can he? She has no connection to the Cullen family (unlike Bella, who in Twilight, had Edward) so he's got to try and balance friendly with distance. They don't want humans getting too close as there is always a risk that they could discover their secret. I know, I really like 'fun' Emmett as well.

So what did you think? Review please?

Ostentatious Querida =]


	11. Aftermath

_-Darkness-_

Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of truth, arrises from the seemingly irrelevant.

_**- Edgar Allan Poe**_

* * *

Aftermath

_It was dark; the kind of thick, oppressive, dark that almost smothers its surroundings in a dense cloud of blackness. It made the room seem smaller, cramped enough to make someone claustrophobic. A torch rested on a bench, propped up on a pile of worn books and papers – a vain attempt to rid the room of the night. The yellow beam was dim, flickering and did little more than give the room a hazy glow. It was nowhere near powerful enough to banish the shadows..._

_Bottles and jars lined the walls of the room, some with faded labels, dark screw-caps and others with tight, rubber-sealed lids. They varied in size and shape, but were all strangely uniform in their manner. The torchlight made the arrangement seem eerie. Light reached the brown glass, showing outlines of the liquids and solids trapped within. Large orange signs seemed to be the most predominant feature of each, ordained with thick black symbols, providing a common factor in the assorted display. They were too dark to made out – but the labels varied in shade, from deep red to traffic-cone orange... _

_There were no windows, nothing to provide any indication of where or when it was. All that was certain was the dark. Silence hung in the air. Too quiet. A foreboding atmosphere had been created..._

_A breath was held..._

I was jolted into consciousness by the incessant beeping of my alarm clock. It startled me, causing me to wake abruptly, the aggravating noise hinting at the untold irritation the day could bring. I slammed my palm angrily against the sleep button, remembering too late, as I felt the burn of my new stitches pulling at my skin, that I was injured. I hissed as the bandage rubbed against the wound, trying to return my arm to its original position in a more careful manner. My brain was a few seconds behind my actions, and I lay still as the memory of the previous day flooded back to me. My arm began to throb, followed by other muscles in my body. I groaned.

I hadn't gotten much sleep, certain _'events'_ turning over and _over_ in my head prevented me from achieving peace until the early hours of the morning, when I'd all but passed out from exhaustion. Even then, my unconsciousness was far from restful. I'd felt like I was suffocating, a huge pressure building on my chest had stopped me from breathing easily was coupled with my ever-present headache, dully hanging in the background – the kind that could only precede a cold. It was as if I hadn't slept properly since coming here; there was always a nagging thought in the back of my mind, one I couldn't quite access. That annoyed me more, the fact that I could quite remember what plagued my dreams and nagged at my mind during the evening. The thought was always just out of reach, just on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't make the leap to recognise what _it_ was.

I turned my head to see the green-gray light that streaked through my curtains. The day looked to be as miserable as it had been yesterday, maybe minus the ice. I was in a less than stellar mood, feeling more exhausted than I was before I went to sleep. It took great effort to coax my body from the warm confines of my bed to face the cool of the morning.

Getting dressed too far longer than I was used to. I winced as my shirt caused the bandage to rub against the wound. I really regretted tossing my prescription into the depths of a handbag when I returned home yesterday, Dr. Cullen was right about me feeling it later. The face in the mirror wasn't a welcome sight either. The girl I saw was unhealthily pale, and combined with the long white bandage taped to her thin arm (artfully hiding a line of stitches), and dark circles hinting at sleepless nights, she could easily pass as a ghost or zombie. She didn't look like me at all; this wasn't the Alice I remembered. Forks wasn't looking good on me. At all. I knew that soon, even my make-up supplies wouldn't be able to stop me from looking dead, and I highly doubted that the 'corpse' look was in fashion this season. My sickly body was out of place against the neatness of my outfit - a blue shirt in a vain attempt to giv ethe illusion of colour in my cheeks, to bring out the colour of my eyes - so at least some part of me looked.... _alive. _I was almost too pale for blusher, I noted with chagrin - anything more than a light dusting and I would look like I'd been slapped. I rested my good arm on the sink in defeat. Today wasn't going to be a good day.

Eventually, I made it down to the breakfast table. My head suddenly felt so heavy, and I propped it up with an arm, with my hand on my face, in an effort to keep it upright. I slunk down in my chair as the sounds of my mother getting ready for work drifted down the stairs, filling me with dread. I wasn't in the mood for another confrontation.

I grimaced as I remembered...

"There was nothing heroic about it," my mother had scolded me, almost immediately, when she returned from the hospital. I looked up from my seat at the kitchen table as her bag was placed angrily down on the counter. I stood up. "It was downright irresponsible," she added, her anger growing at an exponential rate. Her exasperation was evident, but it would have been unwise to reply to her. She turned to face the window, trying to get a handle on her rage. "Really Alice, what were you thinking?" Her voice was low, meaningful and the tone struggled for control. Her hands gripped the counter, a poor victim of her anger.

It was a rhetorical question. An answer would only provoke her anger further. But, it was the one question that I'd been trying to answer all night. I tried to recall the moments leading up to the accident, trying to pinpoint whatever reason I had for my actions. I couldn't think of one. I had been stupid and irrational and... I still couldn't think of a reason. It was something I_ had_ to do. A _compulsion?_ My mother would like that conclusion almost as much as I did. It was admitting that I had no control over myself. I couldn't exactly tell her that I'd seen it happen, that I'd seen his death before my eyes and then prevented the future from happening. That was a one way ticket _back_ to therapy. I shut my mouth as soon as I had opened it, hoping she wouldn't notice that I had almost formed an answer.

"You could have been killed," she whispered, almost as if she were talking to herself. I snapped my head around to look at her, immediately pausing in shock. I'd only seen her look like this once before. My stomach dropped as I realised the parallels to... _No... _The room was awkwardly silent as I tried to figure an appropriate response to her statement.

"I am_ so_ sorry mom," I replied emphasising every word, just as quiet as she was, trying to sound as sincere and repentant as possible. From her posture I knew she heard me, and that I understood. I wanted to give her a hug, to assure her that I was still here, but I was afraid she wouldn't like me to do that. I leaned on the kitchen bench across the room from her, keeping the distance between us. She sighed, an awkward gesture designed to break the silence and began making dinner as if nothing had happened. The atmosphere was still tense. We weren't close anymore, and it ran deeper than in the physical sense. We hadn't been close in years.

_There was a figure, hunched over the desk, holding one of the small brown-glass jars. The torch light barely flickered in their direction, making their face and body little more than a dark shadow. A lamp cord hung near their head, but they made no move to pull it. They were content to work with minimal vision. They shifted, leaning over their work more fully, their shoulders tensed in strain. A bead of perspiration trailed down their forehead..._

_The figure reached to the shelf in front of them, taking down one of the larger jars from a line of similar ones. They clasped it tightly, setting it down on the workbench next to jar they had held. There was little difference, except in the jar size and the label, the slight difference in colour only noticeable to the more discerning eye..._

_There was still no noise, other than the indistinct hum of the failing torch bulb and the shallow breaths of the figure..._

The sound of a car door slamming snapped me awake at the breakfast table. A sudden wave of exhaustion had come over me as I stared at the yoghurt in front of me and I had apparently succumbed. I pushed it away, the thought of eating anything before school was now highly unappealing.

Not going back to school the previous day made it harder to return now. Forks was a small town, rumours about yesterday would have been spreading round like wildfire, and running unchecked, with no one to censor them, the exaggeration was expected to have reached epic proportions. The thought walking through the gates, having people stare at me all over again, was daunting. I wasn't naive enough to think that people would have simply forgotten what happened yesterday._ Probably the most exciting thing that's happened here in months..._

I tried to mentally prepare myself on the way to school. The cold air whipped my cheeks, just as it did every day, but I felt different, like I'd been forcibly altered. I was jumpy, the butterflies that had prevented me from eating breakfast where working overtime. My imagination ran riot, thinking of all the awful possibilities of what could happen when I got there. I couldn't reason with the part of me that was trained to think of the worst-case scenario. I could think of several different outcomes, not one of which bode well for me. I was going to be a curiosity again, just when the novelty of my presence had worn off. I wrapped my scarf tighter around my neck, wondering if I should invest in a hat next. My hair barely covered my poor ears, doing little to protect them from the stinging cold.

Just as I expected, people were openly staring at me as I walked through the parking lot. I'd tried to time my arrival so that it coincided with the first bell, but anxiety had increased my pace and I arrived a few minutes ahead of plan. I felt like the whole world was watching me, though that was probably just paranoia. I was forced to do the walk of shame, and could feel their probing stares on my back. I shifted my bag higher onto my shoulder, clutching the strap tighter and tried to ignore the curious glances. I strode onwards, attempting to seem oblivious to the attention I was getting.

I scanned the parking lot for a certain blonde haired figure, but he was nowhere to be seen. I wasn't overly anxious to see him again, but I looked for him anyway, a small part of me hoping that he would be visible, a recognisable face amongst a sea of students. A pinch of disappointment tugged at me when I couldn't spot him, but I shook it off. The lucky thing probably managed to evade school for the day, pleading injury. _Not that you care..._

The morning passed as a blur of faces and searching looks, the populous of Forks High not even trying to conceal their staring. There was nothing subtle about the way people were stopping in the corridor to get a better look, as if the meaning of life was written on my forehead. It was uncomfortable, and I ducked my head, increasing my pace down the corridors. Each passing second lead me closer and closer to the lesson I really wanted to avoid. I thought about skipping it entirely, but thought it would draw even more attention to myself. _No, better to face it head on..._ I was anxious to what would greet me in the neighbouring seat in the Chemistry lab. I was torn between willing the clock to go faster – to speed my exit from this living equivalent of purgatory – or praying it slowed down, to prolong the time before Chemistry. Time marched on at a steady speed, however, a minute remained a minute, and every second was a second closer to hell on earth...

I was set to get there early, hurrying from my previous lesson to avoid any more questions. Jessica, from Maths, was the worst, suddenly becoming interested in everything I had to say. It was like an interrogation, she was silently trying to pick up on cues, looking for anything of interest that could be reported back to the rest of the school. It wasn't that I assumed the worst in everyone, but I knew her type. You could sense these kind of things, when a person wasn't being totally sincere. She didn't seem as friendly as she had been that first day though, her fake smiles never meeting her eyes. I could only put that down to the whispers I'd heard about my 'relationship' with Jasper. There had been a lot of discontent among the female population on that subject.

_Yeah, that's her. Black hair. She's the one who pushed her boyfriend out of the way of the van yesterday. _I grimaced and kept my head down as my ears picked up on one of the conversations in the corridor. My eyes were focused on the floor, and I tried really hard not to let them know I could hear. I didn't want to listen to _another_ conversation about me; I'd heard it all already. This voice sounded exceptionally annoying, nasal and needlessly cruel. They spoke like I was an attraction at a freak show, rather than a fellow human being. I disliked this person already, a girl I presumed from the pitch of it.

_They're dating? _I chanced a look in the direction of the second voice. The two girls were walking along the corridor, just to my right, oblivious to the volume at which they spoke. The blonde had a look of distaste plastered on her face, her green eyes squinting slightly when she noticed I was looking. The girl next to her, the second voice I assumed, was a mousy brunette. She didn't seem to be as harsh as her friend.

_Don't you know? Apparently they knew each other from 'the south', but they wanted to keep their being a couple a secret. _The nasal blonde paused, before tacking another sentance on for my benefit._ He must have been ashamed of her or something. _She knew very well that I was within hearing range.

_I heard they have an 'open' relationship. Though why she would want another guy on the side, I don't know. _Another voice joined the fray, one that I identified as none other than Jessica Stanely. I had been right about her. I pushed my legs faster, not wanting to hear anymore. I knew denying their rumours wouldn't make them go away, and I didn't have the energy to say something back to them. I felt drained. At this rate, I'd probably have the corridor floor tiles memorised by the end of the week. My neck was starting to hurt from all the ducking down I was doing.

I felt a chill as two cool hands broke me out of my thoughts, stopping me from walking into a carelessly open locker door. _And that would be all you need..._ I muttered a few curses at my stupidity and turned to see the face of Emmett Cullen cheerfully looking down on me, from his height of over six feet. I smiled weakly, thankful for the gesture, and continued down the corridor.

"Keep your chin up kiddo," came his voice from behind me. The happiness in it made me smile momentarily, it would be impossible not to, but then I remembered where I was, and what lesson I had next, which was enough to wipe my grin off my face. _Keep your chin up..._ I repeated to myself, adopting it as my mantra as I walked past the rest of the student body. The door of the lab was in sight and I almost ran through it; my anxiousness at seeing Jasper again was overshadowed by my relief at being away from the gossips of Forks High.

Chemistry started off as a silent affair. I didn't know how he was going to react. I decided to follow his lead. If he was going to start ignoring me, then I'd do the same back. It was fine. I didn't want him to be grateful. I didn't do it for him anyway, I did it to ease my conscience. _You keep telling yourself that..._ I had a ridiculously weird guilty conscience, and I knew I wouldn't have been able to live with my guilt if I'd let him get hurt. It was stupid, I shouldn't have 'known' that the van was going to hit him, so what would it have mattered if I'd just let it. _But you did know_, I thought, and it would be as good as killing him yourself if you didn't at least try to stop it. I shocked myself at the strength of my conclusion, would I have really been as bad as a murderer if I'd let him get hurt?

I tried to keep my head down, to focus on the pages of my notebook in front of me, but I couldn't stop myself from peaking up every now and again, watching the door for his entrance. I dropped my gaze again as I caught sight of him crossing the threshold, daring to look again as he handed the teacher a blue slip of paper.

I stiffened as the scraping of the chair next to me alerted me of his presence. I hurriedly _got my textbook out of my bag and began reading the assigned pages again._ I wanted to clear the air, but I couldn't find a way to make the words come out of my mouth. I couldn't form a sentence; it was as if someone had suddenly disconnected my brain from my lips, preventing me from turning my thoughts into sounds.

Unfortunately, the teacher wheeled a television trolley to the front of the classroom. I didn't know why it didn't make me feel relieved, no class participation would be required today. It made me feel more uncomfortable and awkward, knowing I'd be sat next to him in a dark room. I held my back unusually straight, focusing on a point just above the teachers head and doing everything but looking at the person next to me. I was shaking slightly, and I tried to tell myself that it was from the cold. _You keep telling yourself that..._

The teacher flicked the lights off and I tried to focus on the screen in front of me. I saw random flashes of light and colour, but my brain couldn't make sense of it all. I was staring blankly, not even attempting to process the images before my eyes.

The hour wore on, the tension growing until you could cut it with a knife. I felt like I ought to say something, but my brain was still disconnected and I could only move my lips in what I assumed were a pattern of speech. No noise came out. I considered watching the clock, but realised that the experience would seem to take longer if I was counting every second. I couldn't imagine how it could get any longer; I felt as if I had been in the lesson for years.

A throat was cleared from beside me, the sound making me jump.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice sounding louder in the darkness of the room. I waited, refusing to allow myself to respond. It was smart, seeing as my shock prevented me from thinking of anything acceptable to respond with. I turned my head to look at him instead, the light from the television illuminating his face. It was supposed to be friendly, I think, but it came off as forced, controlled, a carefully constructed mask against the world.

"I didn't say it properly yesterday, but...err... thank you," he continued, realising I wasn't going to reply, allowing the situatio to get even more awkward.

"No problem," I managed to reply, my mouth suddenly turning dry. I attempted a smile. He nodded once in reply, shrugged his shoulders slightly, and then returned to the movie he only pretended to be interested in. He focused his vision on the board without as much as a sideways glance.

I, on the other hand, sat in shock for a few moments, stunned into silence. In all the scenarios I had imagined, never once had Jasper thanked me. Most of them had him blaming me for the accident, one stray thought had him suing me for damages, but none of them had an outcome like this. I didn't know why I was expecting anger, it just seemed to fit, and this new twist forced me to re-evaluate things. Anger was easy, blame was even easier, but I got none of that. For someone who had acted so scared the day before, he had pulled himself together mighty quickly, whilst I was still a mess. I didn't like how confused I felt when I was around him, his very presence sending me into turmoil.

No more was said on the subject, and we fell into an uneasy silence. I shifted in my seat, suddenly feeling very awkward again. There were a few times when I wanted to say more, when I wanted to ask him what was going on with him, if he was alright, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. He sounded odd, so final, that I thought better than establishing a connection again. It was obvious that he didn't want to talk to me. Even when he was thanking me, he still seemed angry, though wether that anger was directed at me was another matter. I groaned inwardly, trying to figure Jasper out was useless. I only hoped the lesson would end soon, so I would be released to the torture of lunch.

_The figure began peeling off the labels on the bottle, a painstakingly slow process that demanded total accuracy. They were being abnormally careful with them, taking great care to ensure the stickers remained in tacked. The stickers were switched, the smaller jar now deemed to have the less dangerous content..._

_The larger jar was uncapped and the slow moving mixture inside was poured out and into a basin. Light shone through the liquid, illuminating the white cubes it contained. The jar, now empty, was discarded..._

_Liquid was added to the basin, water that sparkled in the thin bulb light, causing the mixture to fizz, and orange glow flickering from the bowl, lighting the room from below. A few moments of added light later, the glow began to fade and the room was once again illuminated only by the desk-lamp... _

A week passed and eventually the drama surrounding me was thankfully reduced to a few causal glances in the corridor. The school moved on and found something new to talk about. My fifeteen minutes of unwanted attention was over.

_"Miss Brandon,"_ I shot upright. I felt shame run through me, and my face het up as I realised what had happened. My head had been rested on my arms, my body slumped forward on the desk. _Asleep... _

"Huh?" I asked, blinking rapidly as my eyes refocused on the classroom around me. The teacher sighted, looking at me with a mixture of pity and annoyance. This wasn't the first time it had happened. The first time was in Math, and Bella Masen had gently shaken me awake before attention had been drawn. The second time I wasn't so lucky, but the teacher had let it slide. I wondered if this school operated by a three strikes policy...

"I'd like to see you after the lesson," _Apparently it did..._ I nodded in response.

_Perfect,_ I muttered to myself, sinking further down in my chair as the sound of sniggering filled the air. I didn't feel like I had been sleeping at all at home. I woke up feeling more tired than I was before I went to bed. I could never remember what ran through my mind during my hours of unconciousness, but the sheen of sweat I normally woke up in could only indicate that it wasn't pleasant. I tried to remember what happened, but I could only draw a blank.

My head ached and though I longed to return it to my arms I forced it upwards, keeping my eyes trained on the board. I wasn't paying any attention, but at least I looked interested. I was getting good at covering my tracks.

Though even I wasn't good enough to stop them from sending me to the new school guidance counsellor. No ammount of protesting could convince them that I didn't need someone to talk to, that the accident hadn't affected my behaviour. I didn't like being analysed. It made you feel like less of a person, more a subject than a human. I tried my best, even considered skipping, but the threat of telephoning my mother to inform her of my 'attitude change' as they put it, had me standing outside the counsellors door, wishing I was anywhere but there.

"Come in, Miss Brandon" he exclaimed after I knocked on the door, in a manner that he intended to be friendly. _Eccentric..._

I entered the room. The sun glared at me through the windows behind the desk, illuminating the particles of dust in the air. I squinted and, noticing this, he caused the blinds to fall shut with a clatter. The sound was too loud in the silence, the hallway outside empty of students that could provide background noise.

"I've seen your records," he told me as I entered the room, impatient, not waiting till I sat down in my seat. I eyed the cracked, brown-leather chair with distaste, but sat anyway, trying to keep my grimaces to a minimum. He wanted to talk though I wasn't about to offer anything. He leaned forward, and I observed an unremarkable face looking back at me.

"I want you to know that this is a safe space, and anything you discuss with me will remain completely confidential," I could pick up on the false undertones in his voice. He must have said this to everyone that walked through the doors. It sounded prepared. I raised my eyebrows, calling on his speach.

He cleared his throat, almost nervously, waiting to speak. I kept my facial expressions neutral, it was easier that way. _Better to let them hear what they want, than make them dig for information..._

"I think it has something to do with your father's death,"

My throat immediately went dry.

"I don't think that's any of your business," I replied, fighting to keep my voice level and calm. It was defensive, and I knew he would pick up on that, but it was either that or silence. I wondered if he would pick up on my threatening undertone also, my stare hinting that this was a conversation that I wasn't about to have. This guy wasn't wasting any time.

He smiled at my reaction, "We'll take that as a yes shall we?"

"What do you mean?" I found myself saying, as the silence in the room began to become uncomfortable.

"I want to know why you did it Mary Alice," he said, reminding me of a police interrogation, not that I'd had many of those. I grimaced at the sound of him using my childhood name. After the fuss I made when I turned eight, _Mary-Alice_ had been taken of the records, in favour of Alice. Only my mother called me by my full name now, and that was only when she was _really_ mad.

"Look," I said, frustrated, folding my hands on my lap and leaning forward also, mimicking him, "I've already told people this, I saw the van heading towards him, what was I supposed to do? Let it hit him?" I immediately regretted my wording, it seemed to defensive, like I had something to hide. He mulled over that momentarily and began questioning me again. My voice has raised, and I took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure.

"That's not what I meant. I already know what you've told everybody, I just want to know why you _really_ did it."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I asked, carefully letting confusion colour my tone. "Because I didn't want him to get squished by a van?" I added for good measure.

"There you go, joking around, shrugging it off, but I think I know why you really did it," He said, his voice taking a more menacing tone. His mood swing threw me off and I resisted the urge to lean back away from him. This wasn't how counsellors were supposed to act, on television they were warm and friendly, but never downright evil. It was a weird take on 'good cop, bad cop', didn't you need two people to do that?

I composed myself I turned back to him, adding a small smile to my expression and looked him in the eye.

"You think me trying to save somebody from being hit by a van was brought on by my dad's death," I summarised, looking to him for clarification.

"Not just that," he replied, sensing remained silent, breaking away from his gaze and began looking around the room. I could feel my breathing rate increase as I became more and more nervous. I could feel his eyes on me, watching. Once I had sufficiently my plan of attack, "I think it has to do with lots of things, but mainly, just your need for attention."

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing at his new accusation. I could see what he was doing now, he was baiting me, like taking a red rag to a bull, trying to push me hard enough so I would crack and say something I regretted. I allowed myself a smug smile, but I couldn't help but worry about the real reason behind his interest in Monday's events. Something about this set-up didn't seem entirely genuine.

"My need for attention?" I repeated, fighting a smile. Attention was the _last_ thing I thought about.

"Exactly, and I just want to know why you'd go to such extremes to get people to notice you?"

"Oh believe me, I wasn't trying to get noticed, I couldn't stand back and watch someone get crushed," I told him bluntly. It was turning into a verbal sparring match, definitely not what counselling was supposed to be. I was sure of it. Shouldn't he be trying to help me instead of being on the aggressive?

"So you wanted to go unnoticed?" he asked quietly, almost to himself, making it sound more like a statement than an actual question. He raised his eyebrows, hoping he'd found a flaw in my argument.

"That's not what I meant. I was just trying to tell you I wasn't after attention. I just wanted to stop him from getting hurt"

"Do you have any connection to this him.... Jasper Hale?" He checked his papers to be sure of the name, though I would have bet the 'Porshe', as I had named my mom's long suffering vehicle, that he already knew it. I was still having the weird feeling that something wasn't right about the situation. He seemed altogether too interested in the situation.

I paused to figure it out, I hadn't seen him in school before that Monday, I hadn't noticed him in any of my classes prior to that. I told him this and he seemed a little surprised by this, almost disappointed.

"He'd been absent from school since the Monday you got here." He said, seeming oddly suspicious. "You both seemed to come here round about the same time, I was just wondering if you knew each other before moving here?" He was interested again, seeming to be trying to get to the bottom of some unknown problem. _Something to do with Jasper?_ I asked myself. Possibly, he did seem to be pretty interested in him. I decided to log that thought away for a later time.

"No, I just met him on the first Monday I came here" I said, finding myself bored with his questions now. He remained silent, thinking again. "Was that all?" I had to ask, trying not to sound too rude. I really wanted to get out of the room, the atmosphere was strange and uncomfortable.

"Err... Yes, yes," He said, waving his hand to gesture towards the door. I got up instantly and quickly began to make my way out of the room.

"And Mary Alice," he added as I was almost out of the door. I turned back to him, trying to conceal my impatience and discomfort with a fake smile. "If you ever need to talk about anything, just remember I'm here," his overly sincere statement made me force my smile to become bigger in an attempt not to grimace. I nodded and made my out of the door, letting it swing closed behind me. I leaned heavily against the wall outside, hating the way I'd let him get to me.

_The smaller brown jar was placed on the shelf, in place of the other. It was darker, tinier, and stood out from the rest. __The figure stood back, moving their weight from toe to heel, admiring their handiwork. A satisfied sigh of relief could be heard..._

I shook my head, snapping myself out of the daydream. It was weird, but it seemed familiar. Messed up didn't even begin to cover how I was feeling.

It was raining hard by the time I got out of the building. The skies had opened and water poured from the heavens, crying the tears I couldn't bring myself to shed. How did he know about my dad? That wasn't on any of my records, I'd checked. There was no way he could have known. Still, I knew he'd hit a nerve. I tried to think of something else, anything else, not wanting to relive _that_ day in my mind.

The rain ran down the back of my collar, soaking my neck. My hair clung to the side of my face. I didn't care. I walked onwards, heading in the direction of a house that could never feel like home.

_The lamp light was switched off and the room was plunged into darkness..._

I was missing something. I knew I was. It would be the thing right in front of my eyes, a simple detail that I didn't even think was relevant...

**Like who was driving the van...**

* * *

**Disclaimer;** Incase you failed to see this in my other chapters - I don't own Twilight, no matter how much I wish I did.

**A/N; **I know, I took my sweet time finishing this chapter. My AS level exams finished on the 17th of June, but my teachers, deciding I hadn't suffered enough for their liking, have pilled on the work, giving me minimal free time. It's been hectic since I last updated, let me tell you. In short, I lost all my motivation, blame a combination of writers block and my school for this, and found this chapter exceedingly difficult to write. I'm starting to get back into the swing of things now, as school is finally over, and I have more time to write. Hopefully I can get back to some semblance of a 'regular' update, but I'm reluctant to make any promises I won't be able to keep.

I'm updaiting this in an internet cafe in Greece, so at least you can all see that I'm commited to this story. This was supposed to be finished before I went on holiday - but my computer decided to crash about ten minutes before I was about to leave (Querida was not impressed) and so I've had to rewrite the last half here. I apologise if its not up to regular standard, but I tried my best. I'll sort any major problems when I get home (in 10 days), but until then, I hope this isn't too awful.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. **Major Thanks** to all of you that have stuck with me this far, and thanks to those of you who have put this story on update or favourited it. It means a lot that people out there like what I'm writing, and it makes me want to work super hard to make everything as good as I can possibly make it.

The major sections in italics, everything bar the last sentance, are sections of Alice's re-curring dream (it's been mentioned in earlier chapters, but not in any detail), it's getting more prevalent now.

If you have any questions, ask away, but I won't respond until after I get home. Also, seeing as I've only just finished this chapter, there is every chance that there are glaring errors in this chapter (I didn't have time to get hopeisabluebird to work her magic and check my work). They will be sorted when I return too.

Review? Please? I think I deserve one, seeing as I am suffering in the midday heat to bring this to you all. (Its worth it though).

Until next time,

Ostentatious Querida =]


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